Something to Wish For
by Redshadow43
Summary: In the Forbidden Section of the Hogwarts library there is a secret room where one can make wishes and have them fulfilled. Left behind by her friends when they went horcrux hunting, Head Girl Hermione enters the room with only one wish in her heart-and that wish will take her back in time straight into the arms of Tom Riddle himself. Lemony goodness to follow.
1. Prologue, the Wish

Something to Wish For

Prologue

Hermione had thought that she would be out hunting horcruxes with Ron and Harry instead of going to school this year, but the two had buggered off without her in the middle of the night, leaving her with no choice but to return to Hogwarts for her seventh year without them.

She had been made Head Girl, of course, so it was a small matter for her to wander about the castle at all hours of the night, even in the midst of all the turmoil. Snape saw her as no real threat without her sidekicks in tow, and really, so far he seemed to be right.

She felt rather depressed that her two best friends had discluded her from the most important of all the missions they'd had to date, but to tell the truth, she'd grown tired of them over the years anyway. She'd spent all her time and efforts helping them, and they didn't even appreciate what she had done for them. It really hurt.

And it especially hurt that Ron had not even bothered to say good-bye. She had thought that perhaps they'd been getting closer to becoming more than friends—he'd even kissed her once or twice—but now that she thought back on it, they'd been awkward kisses and she really hadn't felt comfortable with him touching her in that way. But the least the boys could have done was let her know they were okay, and so far it was already three weeks into the new school year, and they hadn't even done that.

Hermione wished she had never even met them. She wished she'd never even had anything to do with this stupid war, or with the Order, or any of it. She especially wished she'd never let herself want Ronald Weasley all these years so much, when he wasn't even worth the effort. She was feeling decidedly bitter, and as always when she felt this way she went to the place where she felt the most solace—the Hogwarts school library.

Alone with her books and her thoughts, she could lose herself for hours and hours, and forget about all the cares of the war, the demands of Headmaster Snape and his treachery, and the designs of the evil Lord Voldemort who wished to take over the world.

She sighed heavily as she realized in this sort of mood that no book in the regular section would comfort her. She needed to cut loose in some way, do something she ought not to. She knew from previous exploration of a room within the forbidden section of the library where she might find what she needed. Over the years, she had entered it on two or three occasions, and each time it had been different and exactly what she'd wished for. Perhaps she would find exactly what she needed today if she went there again.

With no worry of discovery, she crept through the forbidden area and found her destination, stepped right up and grasped the knob. But before she opened it, she gave some thought to what exactly it was she most needed. She was so angry with her friends for abandoning her here, and without thinking of the consequences, she said something quite careless as she turned the knob.

"I wish I never had to see either one of those stupid gits ever again!"

As she stepped inside, a flash of white-hot light hit Hermione right in the eyes, knocking her to her knees. She surged forward into the room, crawling a couple feet forward to where she saw a huge bed, and managed to get into it.

"What the devil is this doing in here?" she muttered as she lay upon it.

The room was spinning around her, and all her thoughts became disjointed in her head, so she couldn't string a single one together. Dizzy, she drifted off, wondering if she would ever wake again.


	2. Riddle

Chapter One

"Wake up, girl," said a decidedly masculine voice. Hermione cracked open her eyes and turned her head, wondering where she was. When he shook her again, she opened her eyes more fully and just plain stared.

"What the devil?" she gasped as she stared up at none other than a young Tom Riddle in Slytherin robes, looking just like he'd done from the memory Harry Potter had shown her. "Where am I?"

"Don't you know, you silly girl?" he asked her with an indulgent smile. "One would have thought you'd remember sneaking into the forbidden section of the Hogwarts library, no matter how long you've been in here. Which is how long, by the way? You don't look familiar to me, and I've been going here seven years, so it must have been quite some time. You must have been under a spell, I'd suppose."

"You went to Hogwarts long before I did, I'll have you know," Hermione informed him as she tried to sit up. "Goodness, I can't seem to move. I wonder if it's an effect of time travel."

"You've traveled through time?" Tom asked skeptically. "That's impossible."

"Well, I must have done, unless you've come to the future somehow," she pointed out. "Will you help me, please? I've got to speak to Albus Dumbledore right away."

"Well, I don't know," he said. "If you can't move, perhaps we should take you to the infirmary, and see if they mightn't be able to get you sorted out first. So, you're really from the future? And you know who I am?"

"Yes, I do," said Hermione, realizing she might be better off not to tell him what she knew. He was going to be an evil Dark Lord someday after all, no matter how handsome and polite he seemed at the moment.

"So, I must be famous then?"

"I suppose you could say that," she hedged. "It's more that we have similar interests, I believe. The library, you know. How else would it be you who found me in here?"

"Oh, yeah," he said. "I hadn't thought of that. If you know who I am, then you can tell me my name," he added shrewdly as he looked down at her. "What is my name, future girl?"

"You're Tom Riddle, of course," Hermione grumbled. "Now, if you don't mind, I'd kind of like to figure out what to do about my own future at the moment, and besides, it's probably not a good idea to tell anyone about their own anyway. You don't want me to accidentally wreck your future, right?"

Tom put a hand to his chin thoughtfully. "Well, that would depend on what it is—"

"Oh, stop it," she said, laughing at him. "I could use a little help here."

"Well, all right," he said. "But don't begin to think this conversation is over, miss—what did you say your name was?"

"Granger," she answered. "Hermione Granger."

000

"Well," said Armando Dippet, "I can see no reason to send you away, since you were already a student here, and by the sounds of it, quite a good one. However, my dear, you will forgive me if I believe there may be a need to inquire of the sorting hat as to whether or not Gryffindor is the House in which you truly belong. Your actions, you see, in defying the rules, they do not seem to fit those of a Gryffindor."

"Sometimes I have wondered if I belonged there," Hermione admitted with a blush. "Lately, my thoughts have not been as noble as they once were. I have been questioning my loyalties to those I once considered my friends."

"I do not expect you to tell me your life history, my dear," Dippet said. "The room in which you were discovered, it does what it does for a reason. I cannot return you to your former life, and so you will have to forge one here, I am afraid."

"I think that may be what I was wishing for all along," Hermione admitted, her cheeks warm.

"Do not tell me more," he said. "I am not interested in the future, mine or anyone else's, and you must keep it completely to yourself. In fact, we shall tell no one you were ever there. I'm sure we can convince young Tom to keep silent about it, as well. We shall say you've been home schooled up to this point, and you've come to finish out your schooling because your family has been lost to you. That story should do nicely—is that not right, Tom?"

"You caught me," said Tom as he stepped out into the room, holding up his hands and smiling. "I wanted to make sure Hermione was going to be okay, sir. You understand, surely?"

"Yes, Tom, and so I shall not take points from Slytherin House this time," he said. "However, let's not let it happen again. And, since you are here, perhaps you would be willing to bring the sorting hat here to me."

"Of course, sir," Tom agreed as he smiled at Hermione. She pulled a face at him, and he chuckled at her for it.

Armando took the hat in his hands and set it onto Hermione's head. She sat nervously as it contemplated her for a few moments, and then, inside her head, it said, "_Your heart has been broken, but I sense you have already realized where it wants to be. You do know he may not be able to be changed, do you not? Are you sure you wish to take this path?_" Hermione glanced at Tom, well aware which _he _it was she longed for. She had come here for Tom Riddle, and she knew it. No matter what logic wanted to say, her heart had made a wish, had brought her to this place. To the hat, she said, _I searched my soul, and this is what it chose. I know it is foolish, but this is the only thing it would let me wish for._

"Slytherin!" the hat shouted. Hermione said nothing, her eyes locked with Tom's. His locked with hers. Armando Dippet stared at the two of them.

"It seems like there is much more going on here than I can understand," he commented. "Miss Granger, Tom here has been chosen as the Head Boy this year, and we have no Head Girl. I believe the best place for you, the safest place, would be in his dorm, as Head Girl. It would be far too easy for the other girls to wheedle your secrets from you if I threw you in with them, and it wouldn't matter if Tom did any wheedling, because he already knows your secret anyway. And, as it happens, the last Head Girl ran off three weeks ago to get married and she has not yet been replaced. Your timing could not be more perfect."

"Your Head Girl ran off to get married?" Hermione inquired blankly.

"Yes," said Tom, his nose wrinkling slightly. "To a Muggle."

"Headmaster, I will do whatever you think is best," Hermione agreed.

"Very well, then, Tom, you should show your new dorm mate to her room, and help her settle in," said Dippet. "And Hermione, I'll have a class schedule drawn up for you as soon as may be."

"All N.E.W.T.S, if you please," she mentioned, making both of her companions raise their brows.

"I'll have to test you for that first, of course."

"Very well," she agreed. "I'll be here bright and early tomorrow morning."

Dippet looked amazed by her forwardness, and Tom tried not to laugh yet again. The Headmaster said, "Very well, Miss Granger. Tomorrow morning it is."

As they walked down the hall toward their dorm, Tom caught at Hermione's elbow and said, "Dippet is not used to such a forward woman, Hermione. I believe you took him quite by surprise just now."

"Oh?" she answered. "I suppose I did. It's normal where I come from."

"Hmm," he answered non-commitally. They reached the portrait of a couple dancing, and he stopped before it. "Innuendo," he said suggestively, and the door opened. Hermione smirked as he let her precede him into their dorm.


	3. Playful Banter

Chapter Two

The dorm for the Head students was rather large, and quite homey. A big fireplace dominated one wall, and a few chairs and sofas surrounded it in a circle, probably for holding meetings, Hermione surmised. As they passed the furniture Hermione's eyes fell upon a huge bookshelf full of all manner of reading material, and her mouth practically salivated at the sight.

Amused, Tom dryly commented, "You really are a bookworm, aren't you, Hermione?"

With a blush, Hermione reigned in her impulse to rush over and begin examining the spines right away. "Of course not," she lied. "I like other things, too."

"Like what?" he teased her.

"Just—things," she answered, racking her brain to think of anything she liked more than a good book in her hands and coming up blank. "I like to go walking along the beach, and riding horses, and I really did love shopping in France with my parents—although I suppose I won't be able to do that anymore."

"What, you can't go horseback riding on the beach anymore? Why not?" Tom inquired, trying not to smirk.

"Oh!" she grumbled. "You know what I meant. But even if I hadn't come back here, I wouldn't have been able to shop with them again, since they're both dead now. Or I suppose I should say, they will be dead at the time I disappear and come back here in the future."

"Don't start trying to figure it all out, Granger, you'll only confuse yourself," he said with a small shake of his head. "Anyway, we even have a small icebox for drinks and such in a little kitchenette. Theoretically, we wouldn't even have to go to the Great Hall all weekend with this set up. We could stay in here for hours, and nobody would have a clue what we were doing."

"Probably reading all those books," Hermione said with a grin.

"I thought you said you liked other things, too?"

"I do," she answered. "Let's have a look upstairs, shall we?"

"That sounds promising," he told her as he rubbed her shoulder suggestively.

"I meant so I can see where my own room is, and then you can go to yours," she told him with a raised brow.

Tom smiled and took her by the elbow, bringing her with him up the stairs. Opening one door, he pointed inside and said, "Bathroom. We have to share, of course. We'll need to work out some sort of a system to let each other know when we're in there, unless you're forward thinking enough not to mind if a bloke wants to brush his teeth while you're in your bubble bath," he said with a hopeful grin.

"I don't think I'm as forward as all that," she answered in a lofty tone, and Tom gave a dejected sigh. "Sorry to disappoint you, Riddle, but even in fifty years girls don't simply drop their knickers for a pretty face and a bit of banter."

"Well, you do know, of course, that pleasing the Head Boy is the job of the Head Girl more than any other person in the whole school, don't you, Hermione?" he teased her. "I'll expect the royal treatment, you know. I want breakfast in bed, and foot massages, and I want you to dote on my every word and whim—"

"Shall I praise you and call you Master as well?" she asked hopefully, her hands clasped together.

"Ah, excellent," he chuckled. "Glad to see you're getting into the spirit of the thing."

"Uh, yeah, okay, so I'll get right on that, then," she said in such a way as to let him know she intended to do no such thing.

"Don't you even want to give the plan a bit of consideration before you dismiss it out of hand?" he inquired. "It could be of benefit to you if you did."

"Oh, sure, how am I supposedly going to benefit from kissing your arse?"

"Keep me happy, you don't end up unhappy," he pointed out. "Standard principle of the universe. Cause and effect sort of thing. Keep me happy enough, you might even get to be happy while you're at it." He wiggled his eyebrows at this last bit suggestively, and Hermione rolled her eyes at him.

"Okay, I'm just going to go to bed now, Riddle," she said. "Feel free to keep right on dreaming, though. Don't let me interrupt you."

With a grin he said, "Oh, I will. You can be sure of that."

"Which room is mine?" she inquired, and Tom indicated the one to the right of the stairs. Shaking her head as she went in, she closed the door behind her and leaned on it with a sigh.

Too tired even to bother looking around, she lay down on the bed and went to sleep, wondering whether or not she'd even wake up in the same place, or if she'd wake up back in the future again. She hoped very much that this was not some kind of dream.

000

"Granger?" came Tom Riddle's voice as he poked his head in her door. "This is the fourth time I've called. Are you going to wake up or what?"

"What?" asked Hermione as she rubbed at her blurry eyes and tried to remember where she was.

"I thought the handsome prince only had to awaken the beautiful princess one time before they lived happily ever after," he teased her.

"Right," she said dryly as she watched him walk into her room and come to sit on the bottom edge of her bed. "How did you know I'd be decent, Tom?" she added with a raised eyebrow.

"Truthfully, I was rather hoping you wouldn't be," he commented, trying not to laugh at the glare she cast him. "It's almost ten in the morning. Didn't you want to be bright and early for your testing?"

"How come you're not in a class?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Free period," he answered as he leaned forward to rub her arm for her when he noticed she had started to do so. "Stiff joints, huh?"

"Must be leftover from my long nap," she answered. "Now go away so I can wake up properly and go snag the bathroom for my bubble bath."

"Okay," he said. "I'll just go get my toothbrush and meet you there."

"Oh!" she gasped. "You'd better not, if you know what's good for you."

"Hey Granger, do we tease each other this much in the future?" he wanted to know.

"You're an old man!" she protested, not offering any information beyond that. If he wanted to believe they interacted in the future, she certainly wouldn't take away his delusions on the matter.

"So what?" he chuckled. "One of my schoolmates who graduated last year had a huge crush on Professor Dumbledore, and he's pretty old. It could happen."

"I think you just like the idea of me wanting you even in your dotage," she joked, and he raised a brow in her direction. "What, you don't think you'll ever be in your dotage?"

"Certainly not," he said. "I am going to discover the Fountain of Youth one day."

"Good luck with that, Tom," she said. "Now scram."

"See you after you ace all your tests," he said as he swat her behind beneath the concealment of the covers, and then walked briskly out her door. Hermione laid there for at least three minutes just gazing at the place he'd been with a fond smile on her face. Who knew Lord Voldemort could be such a flirt? Perhaps her heart had been right after all.


	4. Tests

Chapter Three

"Good morning, Miss Granger," said Dippet as Hermione stepped into his office less than an hour later. "I trust you're settled in nicely? Tom is a very helpful young man, after all."

"Oh yes," she said. "He was very helpful indeed. I believe we're going to get on famously."

"Well, I'm very glad to hear it," he answered. "And are you ready for your tests, my dear?"

"Yes, sir," she answered confidently. "I just hope I don't miss any of the questions because I know future answers you didn't know about yet in the past."

"I can see where that would be frustrating," he agreed. "But, to put you at your ease, I shall do my best to ignore anachronistic issues when I grade your work, if that would please you."

"Yes, thank you, sir," she answered as she took the scrolls from him.

"I believe you're going to be in need of supplies," he commented as he gave her a quill and a pot of ink. "I will have Tom take you into Hogsmeade later today. I usually send him out with a bit of money for his own things, so I'm sure he won't mind helping you to do the same."

"Thank you, sir."

"Very well, then, I'll leave you to your tests," he said. "I'll be right at my desk, doing paperwork. Feel free to ask me anything, my dear."

Hermione merely nodded as she began to write her first answer. As she progressed through the pages she had little difficulty until she reached history. She needed to tread carefully here, because she didn't want to reveal anything that hadn't happened yet. It took a great deal of concentration, and just to add to that stress this was right when Tom Riddle showed up.

"Want some lunch, Granger?" he inquired as he set a tray down in front of her.

Hermione hadn't even realized how hungry she was until she saw the chicken legs and dumplings underneath the cover. He'd also brought her a pot full of tea, and two cups. She smiled in amusement when she saw this, and looked up at him with an inquisitive air.

"I'm sure Dippet won't mind if we eat together," he offered with a smirk. "Food's always better when it's shared."

"You have an entire school full of people to share lunch with, Mr. Riddle," Dippet told him dryly from his desk. "Don't linger too long, I'm sure Miss Granger would like to finish her tests soon."

"Yes, sir," he agreed.

"And Riddle, just because you're the Head Boy doesn't mean you can keep showing up in here whenever you want. I'm beginning to think you covet my job, as often as you're under foot."

"Maybe someday, sir," he answered with a wink. Dippet shook his head and turned back to his work, muttering something about intrepid puppies.

"I hope you like strawberry jam," Tom said to Hermione. "They've made it fresh today."

"Of course," Hermione said with a contented sigh. "They'll still be doing that later on, too."

000

When Tom left Dippet's office the old man had told him Hermione needed to go shopping for supplies, and told him he could take the afternoon off if he would bring her into Hogsmeade. With a flirty smile toward the girl in question, he had replied, "My pleasure," and then bowed in her direction before he stepped out the door.

Hermione couldn't believe that this Tom Riddle was the same person who would one day become Lord Voldemort. It was inconceivable that such a sweet, well-mannered young man with such a wonderful sense of humor would one day become the darkest wizard ever to live. What could have happened to cause such a drastic transformation?

_Concentrate on your testing, Hermione, _she told herself. Turning back to her work, she finished it in record time and handed it in with a flourish. "Here you are, sir, and here are your quill and ink as well. Thank you for letting me use them."

"You can keep those for yourself, my dear," he said with a smile. "I have plenty more where they came from. I sense that you are somewhat anxious to meet a certain young man and begin your journey to Hogsmeade. But is it the supplies you're so keen on, or is it the company?"

Hermione blushed, and said, "Maybe both, sir."

"I thought as much, Miss Granger, though I will not inquire of your motives any further. Very well, then, take this bag of galleons," he said as he handed her the item in question. "I gave Tom his earlier. And remember, my dear, you need to get clothes with that as well. We can't have you giving away your origins because the fabric of your dress hasn't been invented yet."

"It hasn't?" Hermione asked as she looked down at herself.

"I've never seen it before, and I pride myself on knowing a great deal about such things," he answered.

"Really? They never mentioned that in the history books," she commented with a smile. "But I suppose a Headmaster's job has little to do with fashion in any timeframe."

"That's not entirely so," he corrected her. "It is my job to see to it that every student here is properly clothed. And as I take my job quite seriously, I must be diligent in every aspect, including that one. Now, you need not report back to me again unless you have a need to do so. I have already compiled your class list—and you'll be pleased to know that Tom Riddle is in most of the classes on your list. He should be able to help you adjust to everything much more easily that way."

"Thank you, sir, for everything," Hermione said, shaking the man's hand.

"Professor Dumbledore will also be available, should you need to discuss your particular problem in any way. Since you already know him, you may find it much easier to talk to him than to me," Dippet said.

"No, sir, you've really been quite helpful," she told him as she turned to go. "I'll check back in a few days to let you know how I'm doing, if you wish?"

"That would be most agreeable, Miss Granger," he said. "Good luck—and enjoy your outing with Tom."

Hermione blushed again. "I have a feeling I will," she answered, and closed the door behind her as she walked out into the crowded hall.

Tom had asked her to meet him near the front hall, so she milled through the sea of bodies in that general direction, uncaring of the stares the other students cast her way. Then a big, blond boy blocked her path.

"Who're you, then?" he demanded. "I've never seen you before. You're a Slytherin, by the look of you, but you haven't been to our dorm. What's going on?"

"I've been made Head Girl," she said, looking him in the eye. "You must be Abraxas Malfoy, if my information is correct."

The lad broke into a grin then. "Riddle's been schooling you on who your mates are, has he?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "He told me you were a brazen snob, and the first thing you'd try to do was see if you could seduce me. I'll save you the time by letting you know that you can't."

"Ah, prefer your men dark, do you?" he chuckled. "Come then, where are you off to? Can't even spare time for a chat?"

"I have to meet Tom," she said as she continued on her way. "He's taking me to Hogsmeade for the afternoon, so I can do some shopping."

"I guess I'll have to seduce you later, then," he called after her, and then his face fell as his eyes traveled to someone behind her.

Hermione turned in time to see Tom's scowl before he schooled his features into a smile just for her. "I thought you might be done by now," he said as he wrapped an arm possessively around her shoulders. "This ought to be fun, Granger. The sun's come out just in time for our walk."

"That's good," she answered as she moved ahead of him so he had to let her go. "It should be most interesting to see this little town I've heard so much about at last."

"Yes," Tom agreed as he glanced back at Abraxas again. "I can't wait to show you around."


	5. Shopping Spree

Chapter Four

Even though the sun was bright as the pair walked, it was obvious from the dampened grass that the rains had only just stopped. Hermione's toes grew chilled as the late fall wind picked up and the rain threatened to rear its ugly head yet again when they were only about halfway there.

"You don't have a jacket, Granger," Tom realized as he stopped and took his off to wrap around her.

"No, Tom, I don't need your jacket," she protested with a blush. But her rebellious heart sped up as she caught his scent in the warm fabric, and after wrapping her in it he did not immediately move away. She suspected he knew precisely the effect his nearness had on her in that moment, since he sighed softly as he let her go.

"Yes, you do," he said as he looked her over. "You don't want to catch a chill, do you? What was the weather like outside when you went to sleep?"

"Fall had only just begun," she said. "School was not even a month in."

"Well, my dear, it's rather close to Halloween here and I'm sure your body has not adapted to the chill," he commented. "Now be a good girl and stop arguing, since you're not going to change my mind anyway."

Hermione raised an annoyed brow and asked, "Do I look like a child to you?"

"Of course not," he replied. "Far from it."

"Then you ought not to speak to me like one," she pointed out, though she wrapped the coat closer around her even as she spoke. Tom eyed the action with a satisfied smirk, and the discussion was dropped.

"Want to go to Honeyduke's first?" he inquired hopefully.

Hermione laughed. "Got a sweet tooth, Riddle?"

"You make me want to have chocolate," he said with a jaded grin. "Maybe we could eat it together later."

"Do you ever stop?" asked Hermione with a deep blush.

Tom leaned into her shoulder as he said directly against her ear, "Not until I get what I want."

"Why do I find that so easy to believe?" she inquired cryptically.

"What, do I always get what I want in the future?" he asked hopefully.

"No, but you never stop trying to," she commented wryly.

"And why do I find that so easy to believe?" he mimicked with a laugh. "But what about you, Granger? Do you ever stop before you get what you want?"

"I—" she began, but she couldn't answer him. In a way, she was here because of that very trait. She had been unable to get what she wanted in her own time, and so the room had taken her to this one, to this young man beside her who was so much like herself. It was uncanny how easily the two had gravitated to each other. Like two peas in a pod. But she didn't want that pod to turn out being an evil one, and she wondered how she would be able to prevent it from turning out that way. "I suppose I must not have been too satisfied there, if I ended up here, wouldn't you say?"

Tom grinned at her. "Perhaps it was in pursuit of what you really wanted?" he inquired.

"Maybe," she answered with a sidelong glance, and then she sped up her pace, heading for the sweets shop, as the wind kicked up yet again. Tom had to run to catch up to her, and ever the gentleman, he held the door for her so she could step inside.

000

"Are you sure you don't want me to help you shop in there, too?" Tom teased Hermione as she tried to shoo him out of the intimate apparel section of a clothing store. "After all, Granger, you are supposed to be pleasing me. I'd be very pleased to know you were wearing the undies that I'd picked out for you."

"Out!" Hermione protested. "The last thing I need is to know that you'd seen my undies, whether I was wearing them at the time or not."

"On the contrary, my dear, me seeing your underwear could be exactly what you need," he told her as she pushed at his unyielding arm. "You're too uptight."

"If I'm uptight, you've got only yourself to blame for it," she told him.

"What's that supposed to mean?" he asked curiously.

"Never mind," she answered. "Please just go. We can meet up at the book store in about half an hour."

"All right, I'll go," he grumbled, but before he stepped out the door he moved forward and spoke in her ear again, his lips leaving behind a trail of heat as he said, "Besides, it'll give me a chance to shop for your bubble bath supplies while I get me a new toothbrush."

Hermione would have told him how incorrigible he was, but before she knew what happened he had nipped her earlobe and then disappeared in the blink of an eye. Disapparated was more like it. She shook her head and smiled as her fingers went up to touch where his lips had just been.

She really must be going crazy, she told herself. She really must be insane to have come back into the past in search of Tom Riddle, and to crave his attention and his touch. What could she possibly be thinking? This was the evil Lord Voldemort she was flirting with so blatantly. Did she really think she would be able to have a future with him? Did she really believe she might even be able to change what the future would be? Impossible!

As she looked at the undergarments, Hermione was very aware of the fact that they were all what in her day were termed "granny panties". But of course they would be, she reminded herself. This was when her grandmother would have been a young woman. She wandered into the more risqué section and selected her items from there.

She tried not to consider what sort of panties and bras Tom would approve of as she shopped, but then she came across the most lovely set of green silk with black lace, and found herself purchasing them as well. He may not get to see them anytime soon, but it would sure be fun knowing what she had on nevertheless.

As she met back up with Tom, Hermione had to try not to smirk. She had gone into one of the fitting rooms and changed into her new naughty attire, and the very idea was really turning her on. She hoped he wouldn't realize just how naughty she was feeling, so she tried to avoid eye contact so he wouldn't find out.

"I like the coat, Granger," he told her as she handed his back to him. "Did you get some warm socks, too?"

"Yes, Tom, I've got my clothes well in order now, thank you," she said with a smile. "Now I've got to get all the books and supplies I'll need, and then we should be all set."

"I was thinking we could have dinner together while we're here," he said nonchalantly.

"Are you asking me out to dinner, Tom?" Hermione teased him.

"We're already out anyway, woman," he reminded her, but then he linked his arm to hers and drew her a bit closer as they walked. "Besides, I had a couple of friends of mine at the Hog's Head I'm supposed to meet this evening. Might as well stay here till its time, don't you think?"

"Friends?" she inquired, hoping he wasn't talking about his knights. She didn't want to have any part of that sort of a meeting.

"Yes, just some fellow Slytherins," he answered. "You need to meet them eventually anyway, so it may as well be now."

"Is Abraxas going to be there?" she inquired just to annoy him.

Tom scowled and pulled her a bit closer. "Unfortunately, yes. But don't worry, he won't be able to seduce you while I'm around."

"I had a feeling you were going to say that," she chuckled, and laughed when he scowled even more. "But don't worry, my handsome prince, I doubt I'll be waking up in his company any time soon."

"Did you know you snore?" Tom asked her with a grin.

"I had no idea," she answered in lofty tones. "I always thought it was the cat."


	6. Hog's Head

Chapter Five

The Hog's Head was not the same color in the past. Hermione was not surprised by this, of course. Who would leave their restaurant unpainted for fifty years, even in the Wizarding world? Tom watched her as she looked around, and couldn't help but smirk.

"You've been here before, surely, Granger?" he asked after a few moments passed and she still hadn't subsided.

"Yes, of course," she said. "It seems—different. Not as dark. And the hog's head at the entrance still has both of its eyes."

Tom smirked. "I wonder why it would not have both eyes."

"You know, I'm not sure," Hermione answered. "I never bothered to ask. And it certainly wouldn't be useful to ask about it now, as it hasn't happened yet."

"Careful, Hermione," he teased as he put a hand at the base of her spine to scoot her into moving again. "You can't just go around remarking upon things that haven't happened yet in a public place. You never know who might hear you."

"Yes, you're right," she agreed. "That was stupid of me."

"No, not stupid," he corrected. "Just a bit careless. You must remember, especially among the Slytherins, that there are many subtleties hidden beneath the surface. One can never tell the true agenda of their classmates, and so we must all put on an outward face, if only to protect ourselves."

"That seems like such a terrible way to live, always pretending," Hermione told him. "I think I should much prefer to be as open as possible."

"My dear, I fear they are going to eat you alive," Tom said against her ear, then nuzzled his nose in her hair and inhaled sharply. "You bought perfume?"

"No, the woman at the scent counter sprayed me," Hermione answered with an amused grimace. "I guess that sort of thing transcends time as well as culture."

"Silly girl, you're just determined to keep me curious, aren't you?" he whispered. The hand at her back slid slightly lower, sending heady tingles up and down Hermione's spine. She had the distinct impression that he would love to do far more interesting things with his hands, but that he was restraining himself.

"Not at all," she lied, then stifled a giggle when he squeezed her right butt cheek in punishment. "No, I'm serious," she insisted with an innocent smile. "I'm really not trying to make you curious at all."

"Good, because curious is not at all the word I would use to describe what you make me feel," he told her, then softly kissed her on the side of her forehead before he let her go. "Ah, I see some of our friends are here already. We should join them."

Hermione felt her face flaming as he took her hand and brought her with him to a table full of Slytherins. She was somewhat surprised to discover that among the eight people waiting there, the amount of boys and girls was equal. She'd been expecting more boys than girls to be present, for some reason. At least she could be sure this wasn't a meeting of the knights—or at least she didn't think there were so many girls in that group.

"Hey, Tom, who's your friend?" asked a smirking girl with long, blonde hair who was seated next to Abraxis.

"Lucretia Black, this is Hermione Granger, the new Head Girl," said Tom with a somewhat satisfied smirk on his handsome face.

"Ah yes, the mystery girl," she sneered as she gave Hermione the once-over. "Good luck with the cursed Head Girl position."

"Cursed?" Hermione inquired, frowning at Tom in confusion.

"It's just a silly rumor," Tom told her. "Some of the students think that the position of Head Girl has been cursed because no one has lasted the entire school year in that past five years. Of course, I think it's a ridiculous story, and I'm certainly not going to let any harm befall you, in any case. Shame on you, Lu, for trying to upset Hermione like that."

"Well, I'm just glad I graduated already, and don't have to worry about such things," she huffed. "Isn't that right, Brax?"

"Oh, sure," he agreed even though he hadn't listened to a word she'd been saying.

"Here's Avery with the drinks," said Tom with a smile as he sat Hermione down beside him on the bench. Consequently, everyone else at the table had to scoot over so she wouldn't slide off the end. The young man on the other end was forced to move so he wouldn't fall off either. "Thanks for moving, Alphard. You're a great sport."

"Like I had a choice," he grumbled.

"You didn't," Tom pointed out, smirking even more. The young man took a seat in one of the chairs and remained sulky for the rest of the evening.

"So, Hermione, tell us about yourself," Lucretia said with an indulgent smile that clearly was less than genuine.

"Um, what did you want to know?" she asked, trying not to appear the least bit intimidated by the overbearing girl. She really didn't like most girls, and this one seemed worse than most as far as she was concerned.

"How come we haven't seen you at school before this?" she wanted to know.

"I was home-schooled," Hermione answered. "I'd still be there now, except—" Hermione paused. Though Dippet had said her family was lost to her, they hadn't exactly discussed how that had happened. What was she supposed to say had taken her family from her?

"Yes?" Lucretia prompted, waiting for her to continue.

"It's difficult to talk about," Hermione said, looking down momentarily as she continued to rack her brain. "You see, my parents were called away on business, and they both died, leaving me completely on my own. I didn't know what else to do but come here to finish my schooling, for they always told me that without a diploma I'd never be able to land a really good job."

"Let me tell you something about landing a good job, Hermione Granger," she said, leaning forward with a superior air. "There are two types of jobs, those that the deserving get without really trying, and those everyone else does. The question isn't if you have the diploma, it's whether or not you have the credentials. Granger is an unfamiliar name to me. Where does your family originate?"

"Oh, well, we are actually from—er—from the south of France," she said. "Yes, France. My father used to work in a vineyard with his friend. I don't know much about vineyards myself, of course, but I guess he put spells on all the vines to help them grow better fruits."

"It sounds positively ghastly," she said. "And anyway, what kind of business would pull a vineyard wizard someplace from which he never returned?"

"I really don't know," she admitted. "My parents were very secretive about many things. I just know that I'll never be seeing them again."

The dejected quality of her voice was quite convincing mainly because it was real. She really did miss her parents, and really did know she would never see them again. Often she missed them very dearly, and just now she missed them even more, as she was trying to think of a good reason why they were gone.

"Your father sounds common," Lucretia commented cruelly. "Tom deserves better than a common sort of girl. Perhaps you should leave him to more capable hands."

"Do you mean like yours?"

"Precisely," she purred. "Wouldn't you like it, Tom, if you were in my capable hands? You seemed to like it before."

"Your hands are of no concern to me," Tom told her coldly. "I'll thank you to let Hermione be. She's been through enough already without you rubbing it all in her face."

"I can take care of this myself, Tom," Hermione informed him. He raised a brow and subsided. Hermione turned back to Lucretia. "My origins are of no concern to the likes of you, Lucretia. The job of my deceased father fed his family and enabled me to become the powerful witch I am today. You would do well to learn a whole lot more about me before you set yourself up to be my opponent, because when I play, I play to win. You'd best remember that."

Lucretia gazed at her hotly for a few moments, but then she seemed to sense that Hermione was not playing around, and she backed off. The glint in Hermione's eyes gave even Tom Riddle a pause.

After a few seconds of looking at her with admiration in his eyes, Tom turned to Avery. "Well, then, Avery, you didn't get a drink for my Head Girl. What would you like to have, Hermione?"

"I'll just have a butterbeer, please," she answered as she smiled up at him. Avery smiled back, and stepped off to do her bidding without any hesitation. She thanked him for the drink, and sat back to watch her new companions with extreme interest. From a standpoint of history, it was quite fascinating to realize that she could now be a part of it. Maybe even a bigger part of it than she should.


	7. Race You Back

Chapter Six

Tom and Hermione were walking back towards Hogwarts as the sun set, hand in hand. He had taken ahold of her appendage as they stepped out of the Hog's Head just the same way Avery had taken one of the other girl's-a Penny Brooks-in his. She'd seen Avery give Tom a wink when he did it, but pretended not to. Now the two of them had broken away from the others and were currently walking alone.

"I've never seen anyone stand up to Lu, before, Hermione," Tom said as he squeezed her hand appreciatively. "I think you really gave her a surprise."

"Yes, well I meant what I said," Hermione told him. "I have always made a formidable rival."

"Rival, is it?" he chuckled. "And you do know what it was she wants to be your rival for?"

Blushing, Hermione replied, "She perceives me as a threat to her position within your group, I'd imagine. To date, she probably has been able to say and do whatever she likes. She may have even been sitting beside you instead of Abraxis Malfoy at some point, if I don't miss my guess-"

"Yes, she has sat by me," he agreed. "But never by my invitation. I'd like to make that distinction."

"Be that as it may," said Hermione, avoiding further inspection of the fact, "she thinks I'm trying to take her place, and she doesn't like it."

"Are you, then?" Tom wanted to know as he stopped and turned her to face him, putting two fingers under her chin to turn her face up to his.

"Am I what?"

"Trying to take her place?" he clarified.

Hermione could feel the heat coming off of his body as he said this, and she fought hard to overcome an urge to melt right against him and accept the kisses she could tell he wanted to give. But she schooled her features as she turned and began to walk again.

"Why should she care what I do, anyway?" she pointed out. "She's not even in school anymore, she shouldn't even be concerned with me."

Tom didn't bother to point out that she was evading his inquiry, and instead just followed behind her as she continued trekking toward the castle. "She's concerned because she never has to go get a job, so she has all the time in the world to continue to cavort with her peers. To tell the truth, I'm certain she even looks down on me, since one day I'll be a member of the working class as well."

"And what's so wrong with being a member of the working class?" Hermione wanted to know. "I find it far more respectable than going around bragging about blood purity and status and the like. Oh, sorry, I forgot that you probably agree with her."

"Not entirely," Tom said, starting to sound winded by the pace she'd set. He reached out and grasped her hand, slowing her down a bit. "But sometimes a man has to accept what he does not truly agree with just to get ahead in this world. Blood purity is an ideal that is prevalent now, even in the Muggle world. They are even waging war over it as we speak."

"Yes, but what has a silly Muggle war got to do with us?" Hermione asked, more to discover his true thoughts than to express any opinion of her own.

"It has everything to do with us," he told her. "Do you not see how much damage the Muggles are doing to themselves because of this division? How they are taking sides, and killing off all the young men who were supposed to father more children and keep their bloodlines going? It makes no sense to me. Don't you think that it would be better if everyone in the world had a place, and knew their position within the scheme of things? If I were in charge of the world, I'd make sure that all this chaos finally found a bit of order, both in the Wizarding world and the Muggle. Every person knowing their place, and doing what they were meant to do, just like a well-oiled machine."

"Well, Tom, the world doesn't work that way," Hermione told him. "There will always be chaos. There will always be people stepping out of their 'place', as you put it, because they want to make more of themselves than what they are by birth. You can't simply wave your wand and change that, no matter what you do."

"I don't know," he disagreed. "I believe that if one tried hard enough, they could set everything right. The only trouble is, sometimes in order to fix something, first you have to destroy it completely. It's an unfortunate truth."

"No, I don't think so," she said as she turned her head away. Tom, not to be deprived of seeing her eyes, turned her face to his again, moving a bit closer this time.

"So you don't think it can happen?" he asked in a velvety voice. "Apparently that means that Hitler did not succeed."

"He did not," she confirmed. "And it's a good thing, too. Don't you know how foolish it would be if someone were to eradicate so much of the gene pool? More than one species has died off because of the lack of adaptability."

"So I guess you studied Muggle history then?" he inquired.

"Yes, I did," she said. "And you must have done, too, since you lived in the Muggle world until you were eleven."

"But surely you were not required to learn Muggle history during your youth?" he asked, but the question held little meaning for him since he had brought her face even closer, so that their noses were almost touching.

Hermione laughed and whirled away from him, walking briskly toward the castle again. Tom had to practically run to keep up with her.

"Hermione, wait," he called after her. "You didn't tell me why you had to study Muggle history. You know I'll wriggle it out of you, one way or another."

"I'm not supposed to disclose the future, not even to you," she said with a giggle as he tried to catch her arm but missed. He tried a second time with more success.

"Then how about the present?"

"What do you mean?" she asked, trying not to smile as he pulled her against him.

"Tell me how much you want to kiss me," he whispered into the top of her hair.

"I don't," she lied.

"Not even a little?" he asked as he buried his face in her curls and kissed the top of her head.

"Not even a little," she confirmed, though now her heart was racing and she was certain he could feel it thudding against his own.

"Liar," he said, then let her go and started to race towards the school again, looking back at her with a grin.

Hermione chuckled as she realized he could have caught her all along.


	8. Tarot Cards

Chapter Seven: Tarot Cards

When Hermione came back out of her room and headed down the stairs, she found Tom seated by the fire with a bunch of cards floating in the air in front of him. With an amused chuckle, she grabbed one of them and saw that it was the Ten of Cups.

"What are you doing, might I ask?" he inquired as he reached over and slid the card from her fingers, and it slid back into place when he let it go.

"Just looking," she said. "What are you trying to do with those anyway? Aren't they Tarot cards? I thought that was just something they forced you to do in Divination class."

"Well, Professor Paris seems to think I'm very good at Divination, so I thought I ought to practice," he answered with a smirk. "I wouldn't want to make a fool of myself, not knowing the meanings and such. I pride myself on being at the top of the class."

"Well, you'd almost think it was me who said that," she chuckled. "I'm at the head of my class, too."

"Oh, I see," he said with a playful smirk. "So in all reality it's me you're trying to replace."

"No, I just thought I'd offer you a challenge," she said. "It must get rather dull with no one around at the same level."

"It's so weird that you know my level," he said. "I really wish I knew a bit more about our future interactions."

"I really don't think it would be a good idea, Tom," she answered, hoping he wasn't going to persist. The last thing she needed was for him to discover they were on opposite sides in some future war that he started. He might decide to eliminate her now and have done with it for all she knew. After all, wasn't that what he'd attempted to do to Harry?

"What are you thinking about that has such a grim look on that pretty face?" Tom asked lightly. She could tell the question was not casual, in spite of his desire that she should think so.

"Nothing," she said. "I was just remembering something my father said. I'd rather not talk about it."

Tom nodded, but he clearly didn't believe what she was saying. "Hermione, let me practice on you," he said, indicating the cards before him.

"You want to read my fortune?" she scoffed. "What a complete waste of time."

"Oh, now, you never know," he said. "Unless you think your unique situation might cloud the issues. It could be quite a curious thing."

"Come on, Tom, that's just so-stupid."

"Indulge me?" he pleaded, his blue eyes sucking her right in. She couldn't say no to such a handsome face.

"Oh, all right, but don't expect a huge reaction."

Smirking, Tom handed the cards to Hermione so she could shuffle them. "Ok, do you have a question in your mind?"

Hermione nodded. _What does the future hold for me? Why am I here?_

"You don't have to tell me what it is if you don't want to," he said as he took the deck back and flipped out a Celtic cross spread with one hand while patting the spot next to him on the sofa with the other. Blushing slightly, Hermione sat in the place he'd indicated.

"Okay, the first card shows what you want most," he said as he tapped the floating card so they could see what it was. Hermione blushed again as he revealed The Lovers. Tom chuckled, and said, "Well, that explains a lot."

Hermione punched him lightly in the arm, and then realized with shock exactly who she'd just done this to. Shaking her head slightly, she tried to focus on the cards instead of the man who was reading them, but with little success.

"What's next?" she grumbled, trying to sound disinterested.

"The Three of Swords stands in your way," he said, then turned and kissed the top of her head. "Someone has broken your heart."

"Yes, that's true," she conceded. "Go on."

"Go on with the reading, or go on with the kissing?" he inquired with a smirk.

"Tom," she grumbled, but he turned her face up to his anyway.

"Which one, Granger?" he asked, inching ever so close as he spoke. He was going to make her say it, she could tell, but she was just ornery enough not to.

"Mmm, the cards?"

"Vixen," he whispered, turning away and letting go of her chin.

Hermione's heart was beating so fast she thought she would faint dead away. If that was her reaction when he didn't even kiss her, she could only imagine what she'd do when he finally got around to it.

"Hmm, couple of cards here saying you were betrayed and want to find happiness again," he said, flicking them lightly with his fingers until he came to the near future card. "Hmm, two of cups, that looks good."

"What are you doing?" she chuckled. "You call that a fortune telling?"

"I call that getting to the good part," he smirked. Then he ran his hand over the cards, and they all gathered back into the deck. He set it on a side table and turned to take Hermione into his arms. She gasped as his lips came down to trace the side of her throat, then made their way up to kiss her cheeks before discovering her lips. It was a light, playful kiss, over almost as soon as it started, and then he chuckled as an involuntary groan ripped from her before she could hold it in check.

"Tell me," he commanded, and Hermione closed her eyes and shook her head. He caught her chin and turned her face up to his again. "Look at me, Hermione."

Her eyes popped open, and she saw the heat in his. Her breathing came in short little gasps now, her body trembling as he drew her even closer. Then he was kissing her again, but this time with an eagerness bordering on shameful, and Hermione wantonly kissed him right back.

"You know, Granger, we've got class tomorrow," he said. "If you don't want me to ravish you here and now, you might want to call it a night."

"I-I better go," she whispered then, and she turned and went quickly up the stairs before she changed her mind.


	9. Walburga

Chapter Eight: Walburga

"Tom Riddle, what do you think you're doing?" Hermione asked hotly when Tom stopped in the doorway and stood so she couldn't get out of the classroom. This activity also blocked the other students' escape, but none of them would dare say a word about it.

"Just wanted to congratulate you on a job well done," he answered innocently. "You have Professor Slughorn eating out of the palm of your hand. You don't think you laid on the kissing up a bit too thick?"

"Kissing up?"

"Yeah, you know, as in always being the first to answer every question, and in a little know-it-all voice, too," he said. "Sluggy loved every minute of it."

Hermione sucked back the stinging retort she'd been about to utter, and said instead, "Do you think that's original? 'Know-it-all' is what everyone called me back home."

"I suppose you wouldn't even consider the idea of allowing me to answer a few questions next time?" Tom inquired, still trying to appear unruffled.

"Would you stop blocking the door already, Riddle?" Abraxas finally complained. "Some of us have classes to get to, if you don't mind."

"And what if I do mind, Malfoy?" Tom inquired, the hint of a scowl turning down the corners of his lips. But then he stepped out into the hallway, taking Hermione's hand to bring her along with him. "Pushy git. If I had all his money, I could afford to be that pushy."

"Not jealous of Malfoy, are you, Tom?" Hermione inquired sweetly.

He squeezed her hand as he asked, "Should I be?"

Hermione blushed, well aware he wasn't referring to what had just happened, but rather he interest in the wizard himself.

"Of course not," she said as she looked down at their joined hands.

"Good," he answered as they came to the door Hermione needed. "I'll see you after class."

Without warning, Tom swooped in and kissed Hermione before he let her go and moved on again.

"See you later," she answered as she watched him go. Then she turned and walked into the classroom.

"What was that little display?" scoffed a girl she sat next to.

"What display?" Hermione asked, and then it dawned on her. "Oh, you mean Tom? I don't know, I had no idea what he was going to do."

"You looked as though he'd done it before," she commented. Hermione took in her dark blonde hair and green eyes, and the sultry pout on her lips. She hated her immediately.

"Why do you care?" she wanted to know. This girl was starting to get on her nerves. She wished she could hex her just so she would shut up.

"I intend to have him for myself," she preened.

"And just who do you think you are, that you can tell me who to kiss?" Hermione growled under her breath as the teacher came to the front of the room.

"I'm Walburga," she answered. "Walburga Black. My friends call me Wally. But you can call me Miss Black."

"No problem, Black," she answered. "I met your cousin the other day, you know."

"Yes, so I've heard," she sneered. "She told me Tom brought you along for dinner and you kept him all to yourself. I never would have let you get away with it if I had been there."

"And did she also tell you that I said she needed to back off?" Hermione asked sweetly.

"You must be Miss Granger," said the stout woman at the head of the class. "I'll let you get away with it once, since you're new here, but in future I'll expect you to be seated and be silent when you enter my class. Would you please stand up and tell the class about yourself?"

With a blush, Hermione got to her feet. "Hello everyone, I'm Hermione Granger, and I've been schooled at home up until now, so as you can tell, I don't know all the rules around here. I do apologize for my oversight, Professor Tidwell. It won't happen again. Thank you."

And with that, she sat down again.

"Miss Granger is rather modest about her accomplishments, I see," Professor Tidwell said dryly. "However, I have it on good authority that she passed her N.E.W.T. testing with the highest marks this year. That's very good for a 'home-schooled' witch, I must say."

"Thank you, Professor," Hermione answered, all the while wishing she would move on to the topic for the day and get on with it. She felt a bit uncomfortable being the main topic of discussion, and she'd rather hit the books.

"Well then, class, as most of you know, we are in the middle of studying magical theory-how and why spells work the way they do, that sort of thing," she said. "So, I'd like you all to turn in your books to chapter five, The Theory of Amulet and Talisman Creation."

Hermione perked up at this. She had been looking forward to this particular topic since she'd first begun school at age eleven. She could just imagine the kinds of things she'd make with such knowledge. Fleetingly, she wondered if horcrux creation would be mentioned, but she doubted it. Tom had discovered the book on that topic in the forbidden section.

As she sat absorbing the lesson like a sponge, she completely forgot that the vindictive Walburga was still fuming over the kiss Tom had given her earlier. Suddenly, her ink pot felt excessively hot, and she looked up sharply to see the girl beside her pretending ignorance even as she tried to hide her smirk.

"Oh, that's really mature," she whispered irritably. "I outgrew that kind of behavior by the time I was four."

"I'd like to see you finish taking notes now," she sneered.

Remembering the ink she'd gotten from the Headmaster, she brought out that pot and uncorked it, using that ink to continue writing. With a scowl, Walburga tried to hex that ink as well, and instead a glob of it floated up and splattered right between her eyes.

Trying not to laugh, Hermione commented, "Now maybe you should get to work, Wall-eye, and stop pestering me."

"Oh!" she growled fiercely, wiping at the mark on her face. It would not wipe away, and she sprang out of her seat and out the door without another word. Hermione glanced up at the Professor, and that woman gave her a nod of approval before turning back to her work.

With a smile, Hermione did the same.


	10. Runes

Chapter Nine: Runes

Although Tom had said he'd see her after class, she hadn't expected him to be waiting just outside the classroom door. He grinned as soon as he saw her, and asked, "Is it true what they're saying about you and Wally Black?"

"How the devil did you hear about that already?" Hermione wanted to know.

"She told a student out in the hall on her way to the infirmary," he said. "How would you dare to hex her so blatantly right in front of everyone? That's completely wicked."

"I didn't hex her," Hermione told him. "She tried to hex my ink, but apparently it's hex-proofed."

"Yes, but you needn't tell anyone else that," he said as he took her hand in his and started walking where he know she was going.

Hermione squeezed his hand and said, "Laying claim on the new girl, are we?"

Tom stopped and took her other hand as well. "Laying claim on the best girl, maybe," he said with a sly grin. Then he tilted her face up and prepared to kiss her again.

"Riddle, save that for private time," said Professor Dumbledore from somewhere behind them.

"Yes sir, Professor Dumbledore, sir," he answered, backing up slightly.

"Come on, Tom, we have to get to Ancient Runes anyway," said Hermione, though secretly she'd been thrilled at the prospect of the kiss he'd been about to give. She didn't think it was going to be as tame as the last two had been, and now her nerves were all jangled at the idea that once classes were done they'd find themselves alone all night.

Instead of taking her hand again, Tom's hand ended up on the small of her back as they headed to their next class together. Right before they stepped into the classroom, Tom looked around for any other Professors before he scooted her against the wall and tilted up her face for the kiss he'd been after before.

Hermione's heart thudded quickly in her chest. Her whole body tingled at the hot way his lips slid over hers and then traced over her cheek and toward her ear as his arms wrapped about her waist. When he stood up to look into her eyes, her breaths were coming out in short little gasps.

"Come sit by me," he said as he took her hand again and brought her with him, sitting her in her chair before taking his own. Hermione couldn't help but notice how many eyes were upon them as the Professor came in and headed for the front of the classroom.

"Riddle, if that kiss wasn't so hot I'd take fifty points from Slytherin," he said as he perused the pair over the rim of his spectacles. "I can only assume you're the new Head Girl, since I've not met you before."

"Yes, sir," Hermione answered without looking at him, her cheeks flaming.

"Well, I suppose I'd be remiss if I didn't do something to reprimand the pair of you," he added. "I'm professor Merryweather, by the way. And I'll see the two of you later for a bit of detention."

"Yes, sir," said Tom and Hermione in unison this time. They smirked at each other over it, and then each of them started setting up their half of the desk for class. When each of them found their books at the same time and simultaneously flipped to the page written in the air so they could start reading, Professor Merryweather shook his head and started his class.

"Today we're going to learn to write our names using Runes," he told everyone. "And, just to make things a bit more interesting, I'll be having desk partners make each other inkwells in which they have carved their own names. I'm quite sure most of you won't mind getting one from your deskmate, right?"

"I want one from Tom," whined Wallburga from the back of the class, where she sat all alone. "I'm the one who should be sitting with him, not that homeschooled nobody."

"Miss Black, if you will please control your-wait, what's that on your face, my dear?" the Professor said.

"She did this to me," she growled, pointing at Hermione.

Tom couldn't help but look back to see her handiwork, and turned back around with a smirk on his handsome face. "Good job, Granger," he whispered against her ear.

When Wallburga saw this, she started to throw a fit, tearing at her hair and shrieking angrily. Then she suddenly raced to the front of the class, pulling her wand as she came, ready to do Hermione an injury of some kind.

"Petrificus Totalis!" Hermione shouted as she pointed her wand at the enraged girl.

Wallburga stopped in mid-stride and stood with a shocked expression.

"Well, then, as I was saying, there aren't any objections with you deskmates, right?"

"Right," the entire class agreed, all turning around as though Wallburga wasn't there. The rest of the class went quite smoothly, and as she was leaving arm in arm with Tom, happily holding one half of the little clay heart she'd suggested, while he held the other, she remembered to release the spell.

Wallburga fell to the floor and sobbed hysterically, and Tom and Hermione chuckled all the way down the hall.


	11. Being Bad Can Be Fun

Chapter Ten: Being Bad Can Be Fun

Professor Merryweather's idea of detention was to allow his two students to quietly study together in his classroom for two hours. For the first fifteen minutes he stood about next to their desk and asked Hermione all about herself. She had to make up a lot of her answers on the fly, but the man seemed to believe what she was telling him without question.

"So then you did not know this rascal until you took the Head Girl position?" he chuckled, leaning over to clap Tom on the shoulder. "You must be a real sweet talker, Riddle, to get a girl against the wall so fast."

"I was rather surprised myself," Hermione said jokingly. "But, as third kisses go, I'd rate that one as pretty good," she added as she winked at Tom and smirked, then started reading her book rather avidly.

"Pretty good?" he scoffed. "Just pretty good?"

"Do you expect me to kiss and tell?" she inquired sweetly, making the men chuckle conspiratorially together.

"Of course not," he said. "I'd never dream of it."

"Well, I'll leave you two young people to your books," Merryweather said. "Mind you don't give the girl her fourth kiss while you're in here, Tom."

"I promise her fourth kiss will not happen in this room, Professor," said Tom as he held up a hand as though taking an oath."

"Good lad," said the man, then left them to themselves.

Hermione began to read, as he expected.

"Are you really going to read that chapter, Hermione?" Tom inquired with a chuckle.

"Of course I am," she said, not looking at him as she continued to read.

"Really?" he repeated, gliding a knuckle along the edge of her knee. Her skin tingled, but Hermione refused to be affected. She had been assigned a task, and she meant to do it. "Hermione," he cooed, the hand gliding up her leg and around to explore the contour of her hip. His other hand slid into her hair, and Tom tilted her face up until she had to stop looking at the book whether she'd intended to or not.

"Riddle, I've never failed to do an assigned task this far, and I'm not about to start now," she complained.

The hand that had been at her hip slid up her back and around to cup her breast as he brought her lips up to meet his. She giggled slightly, remembering he'd promised, but he gave her no time to admonish him before his tongue grazed open her lips and slid inside at her gasp. When Tom pulled her onto his lap, she didn't put up any particular amount of resistance.

His fingers found her hardened nipple and brushed against it, tantalizing the sensitized flesh. She groaned, and he inhaled the sound into his mouth as his hand tangled into her hair, drawing her face closer than ever. He moved her legs so that she was straddling him, and Hermione was so hot and bothered she didn't even try to stop him.

She could feel his hard, throbbing cock beneath his robe and the pants he wore under it. As her sex continued to touch his, the pulsating desire at her core began to attune to the throbbing of his, and their smouldering hot kisses became a bit more intense. His fingers, which had been teasing the nipple to life before, now grasped it and twirled, spiraling white-hot desire straight to her core.

"Tom!" she sobbed into his mouth.

"Too bad we're not in our dorm," he told her as he butterflied kisses down the column of her throat. "Then I could taste you."

"Taste me," she pleaded in a soft, wanton abandon.

Tom chuckled, and bit into the flesh just above his fingers before moving his hand aside to replace the fingers with gentle teeth. Hermione practically squealed.

"Hush!" he said, laughing. "Do you want him to hear you?"

Hermione's face flamed hotly at the thought. And when she thought she could care less if the man did hear, it flamed even hotter. Would she really want the Professor to come back in here and find her on Tom's lap with her breast in his mouth? It sounded kind of hot, but no, not really.

"Did you know Walburga said she intends to have you for herself?" asked Hermione with some amusement as she remembered the jealous girls words.

"I don't give a good damn what Wally said," Tom said with a wicked grin as he intermittently flayed the blouse with his tongue right where the hardened nipple was, making a wet spot on it. Then he brought his lips and teeth back over it again, nipping harder.

Hermione shuddered in his arms. "We should stop," she whispered into his hair.

"I know," he agreed, but did not let go. Instead he cast her a wicked grin around the breast still in his mouth and said, "Being bad can be fun, huh?"

Hermione had a visualization of him saying this to her sometime in the future as death and carnage surrounded them, and it made her shudder again for a completely different reason.

"Not always," she said as she pushed out of his arms and sat in her own seat again.

Tom watched her face, certain that he'd struck a nerve.

"What is it, Hermione?" he asked as he leaned his face into her hair. "What made you go into the library, and plagues you night and day? I know something has hurt you, but I can't imagine what it could be."

"It's nothing," she lied, and a tear slid down her cheek. Tom caught it with his finger.

"'Nothing' doesn't make a girl who is thoroughly enjoying herself suddenly slide off a bloke's lap and start crying," he pointed out. "No matter what decade she's from."

"I-" she began, then shook her head and tried again. "I don't want to talk about it, okay?"

"Sure, Granger, whatever you say," he agreed, then picked up his textbook and started to read. Seeing this, Hermione took a deep, settling breath, grabbed her book, and did the same.


	12. A Tender Good-night

Chapter Eleven: A Tender Good-night

When they were freed from detention, Tom and Hermione were expected to do their rounds before they could return to their dorm. The pair walked in silence, and Tom stuffed his hands into the pockets of his robe. Hermione knew he was trying to keep from touching her, and it gave her a bad feeling in the pit of her stomach.

She hadn't meant to put him off. Hadn't she wished to be with him in the first place? More than once she tried to work up the nerve to touch him first, but after about half an hour she still hadn't managed to do it.

"Granger, what are you thinking about?" he finally asked, pulling her with him to lean against the side of the astronomy tower.

"Things," she answered softly.

"What sort of things?" he prompted.

"You were right when you said I was hurt," she said softly, not looking at him. "My two best friends, the two people who have always relied on me in the past, suddenly ditched me at their most desperate hour, and it hurt a lot."

"Desperate hour?" he repeated curiously. "What could be so desperate to a couple of students?"

"Nothing," she said. "Really, it's nothing. They just let me down when they left me out, that's all. Besides, I can't explain any more of it to you without letting you in on future events, which I promised I wouldn't do."

Tom laughed. "And you always keep your word, don't you, Hermione?"

"I try to, yes," she answered, feeling a bit defensive now.

His fingers traced along the oval of her face, then slid into her hair as he brought her against his chest and kissed the top of her head. "I have never been good at that sort of thing," he admitted with a smile. "I don't know, I guess it's just not in me to be good."

"Do you really believe that, or is it a convenient excuse?" Hermione inquired, her tone slightly bitter as she spoke. He could see that he had struck the nerve again.

"Wow, where does that come from?" he asked, holding up his hands as if at gunpoint. "It must be something I did that I haven't done yet."

"I'm sorry," she said. "It is, actually. It's just difficult to sort out my feelings from then with the feelings I have now. I'm completely uncertain to tell the truth. As to what I should and should not feel, I mean."

"So, if you're mad at me for something, why don't you tell me what I did now, and then maybe I won't do it again," he said in a reasonable tone.

"If it were that easy, don't you think I would be a lot less uncertain about it?" Hermione pointed out. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to know that something I say or do could irrevocably alter what happens in my own past, maybe even to the point of me never going into the library at all. If I don't go in, I won't end up here in the first place, so whatever I did would never happen, and it would keep looping around forever. A girl could get dizzy just thinking about it."

"Great, now you've got my head spinning as well," Tom chuckled. "So what you're saying is, when you went into that room that is, that you were hoping to somehow end up here?"

"Not precisely," she answered as she began to walk again.

"Well then what were you thinking, precisely?" he wanted to know.

"That I hoped I never had to lay eyes on either one of those two gits ever again," she said, but this was only half the truth. Harry had shown her a memory with young Tom Riddle in it, and in the back of her mind ever since had been a heady desire she couldn't get rid of. It was almost like a need, one she'd never expected to have fulfilled. And yet, here she stood.

It took her a moment to realize Tom was staring into her eyes, and then she realized with a start that he could easily have been using Legilimens on her just now. What if he'd seen-well, what if he'd seen everything, including the desire she was just thinking of?

"You're not sneaking into my head, are you?" she inquired lightly, a blush forming on her cheeks.

"Why not? Were you thinking about something naughty?" he teased her, cupping her chin and turning her face up so she had to look at him again.

"That would be taking unfair advantage, reading a girl's thoughts to see if she was thinking of anything naughty-"

Tom's laughter interrupted this tirade.

"What's so funny?" she inquired.

"Hermione Granger, if you know me as well as you think you do, you already know that I have never claimed to be overly fair. I am an opportunist, love. Surely that would be more apparent as I mature."

"Yes, I suppose it is," she conceded. "It's just that you tended to select some much bigger opportunities."

"Really?" he asked with a curious smile. "Like what?"

"Nothing that I would tell you about," she said firmly. "And there's nothing going on out here, either. Why don't we just call it a night?"

She turned and headed for the castle. They hadn't gone into the basements at all to see if any Slytherin activity might be going on, but neither of them particularly cared. Tom followed at a more leisurely pace, allowing Hermione to reach their dorm just a bit before him.

As the portal opened he caught at her elbow, and the two entered together and headed straight for the stairs. When they were about to part company to go to their own rooms, Tom encircled Hermione in his arms.

"Hermione, you really are the most interesting girl I've ever met," he said as he grazed her cheek with his lips. "I've never felt so giddy in all my life, you know. I really hope you did come back here just for me."

"Do you really want me to kiss and tell?" she asked with a playful grin.

"I want a lot more than kisses from you," he admitted, casting her a devilishly handsome grin. She felt her body trembling, and she was certain he felt it, too.

"I'm tired," she said. "It's been a busy day."

"All right," he answered, and his lips briefly claimed hers. "Sweet dreams, sleeping beauty."

"You too, my handsome prince," she said with a smile, and kissed him back before she darted into her room. With a heavy sigh, she fell onto her bed and drifted off to sleep.


	13. Half My Heart

Chapter Twelve: Half My Heart

Tom sat near a tree by the lake, holding a small object in his hand as if it were the most important thing he possessed. It was not his father's ring, nor any other object he would have possessed if Hermione Granger had not come back in time. Secure in his palm was the half of a heart that he and Hermione had made along with their inkwells.

He opened his palm and read the runes they'd chosen again. Her half held the runes for 'M' and 'HE', while his own read 'Y' and 'ART'. He wondered if she'd given him this half on purpose, as if she were asking him why he must always be such an opportunist—why he must be so artful all the time. But if so, what about her own half? Did it perhaps suggest she was already his?

"Riddle, what's that you're looking at so intently?" Malfoy inquired as he stepped up to him.

Tom clasped his fist shut again and unconsciously held it to his own heart as he replied, "Malfoy, have you forgotten how to address your Lord in private?"

"Of course not, Lord Voldemort," he said with an apologetic bow. "My curiosity simply overcame my sense of decorum."

"Don't kiss my boots, either," he grumbled. "If I wanted you to kiss my arse I would have told you so well before this."

"No, my Lord," he snickered.

"What's so funny?" he demanded testily.

"Nothing, I just couldn't help but imagine who you want kissing your arse these days," he admitted. "Has she actually done so yet?"

"If you value your life you'll stop having dirty thoughts about my new dorm mate," Tom growled.

"I'll take that as a no," he said, then sat beside him in the sand. "Or perhaps you haven't asked her after all?"

"Malfoy, why don't you sod off," he said as he turned slightly away. Unfortunately, this made the string on which the half of a heart hung easily accessible, and Abraxas yanked it free with a playful grin. Tom's wand momentarily aimed straight at his heart, making him pause.

When his Lord lowered the wand, Abraxas held up the trinket curiously. "What is it?" he wanted to know as he turned it about in his hands.

"It's half of my heart," he answered with a slight smirk.

"Where's the other half?" Abraxas wanted to know.

"Hermione has it," he said, and felt his face begin to flame.

"This had to be her idea," he commented as he gave it back. "There is no way ultra-sensible, cruel and vindictive, opportunistic Tom Riddle would think up such romantic nonsense."

"Perhaps not, but is it wrong of me to like it?"

"It's unlike you to like it, but that's not necessarily a bad thing," he answered, uncertain just how honest he could get away with being. Riddle may be in a rare mood, but he knew how easily it could turn sour.

"I can't figure out how she's so quickly climbed right over the wall that I so carefully erected," he admitted in a brooding manner, arms crossed over his chest, the little heart once again near his own.

"You haven't gone and told her the 'l' word, have you?" Abraxas inquired.

"Of course not!" he snapped. "Love is nothing but an illusion, easily offered and easily withdrawn. Anyone who believes otherwise is a fool."

"Now there's the Tom Riddle we all know and l—oh, I mean admire?" he chuckled.

"I mean, what do I really know about this girl?" Tom went on. "I know nothing of her family, her upbringing, her breeding—not even her blood status. I'd be a complete fool to fall for her without such details, wouldn't I? To let her near to any part of my heart so she could be in a position to crush it later?"

"Well, don't then," Abraxas said reasonably. "You're Lord Voldemort, not just a young man who fancies a beautiful young woman who is smart, and kind, and worst of all, just as smart as you are. We mustn't forget that last unforgiveable crime."

"Yes, we mustn't forget that," Tom answered with a distracted look as he looked at his half of a heart again. "I must be the best at everything I do, else what kind of a Lord would I be?"

"A human one?" Abraxas offered as he stood to go.

Tom was too distracted to bother hexing him just then. But he promised himself that he would the very next time he saw him. And he might even Obliviate him as well.

#

Hermione was sitting in the library all alone, her hand resting near her heart. She could feel the contours of the half of a heart she'd placed on a cord and put around her neck, and just the thought of the young man in possession of the other half made her feel over-warm.

Not for the first time she wondered what she could have been thinking, to wish herself back here with a man who would one day become a monster. But now that she was here, now that she'd seen him and touched him—and tasted him a bit, too—she knew that she would never be able to deny herself the guilty pleasure of being in his arms.

"This is completely insane," she muttered as she held her head in her hands and shook it slowly from side to side.

"What's insane, Granger?" Abraxas Malfoy asked as he took a seat on the other side of her table.

"Hm?" she asked, feigning ignorance.

"What is it that you think is completely insane?" he clarified.

"Oh, just thinking out loud," she answered as she straightened up in her seat.

Abraxas chuckled. "That doesn't answer the question," he pointed out. "Are you worried about snogging Riddle but wishing you were snogging me instead?"

"You wish!" she scoffed, wrinkling her nose.

"Well, what are you thinking about, then?"

"Malfoy, what's Tom like—I mean, really like?" she asked uncertainly.

"How do you mean?" he asked. "Tom is like many things. You can never be sure which of them he'll be from one minute to the next. He is capable of great cruelty, and until recently I never suspected he might also be capable of an equal measure of other, more loving behaviors."

"Never?" she clarified.

"With Tom Riddle, everything he does usually has some sort of motive behind it," he admitted. "Was your hand perchance on the other half of his heart when I came in here?"

Blushing, Hermione averted her eyes as she said, "Oh, yes, that's exactly where it was."

"Do you know something, Granger?" he said. "I don't think you have a thing to worry about. Things between you two are going to turn out just fine."

"Really?" she asked.

"Yeah, really," he said. "Even though that sucks for me. You know how much I wanted to ravish you myself."

"Yeah, totally," she agreed with a wry grin. "I guess you'll just have to ravish Wally instead."

"Bite your tongue, woman," he said as he stood to go. "I'd just as soon kiss a Muggle."


	14. Are You Sure?

Chapter Thirteen: Are You Sure?

Hermione didn't return to their dorm until Tom had already gone into his room to prepare for bed. He'd been waiting for her for several hours, but he had forced himself to refrain from going out in search of the girl. He would not wish to appear too eager for her company, after all. As Malfoy had pointed out, that would be completely unlike him.

He heard her as she mounted the stairs and headed into the bathroom. He heard the water turn on, and every movement she made in the shower as well. He had to force himself to stop thinking about what she might have been doing all day that had made her want a shower. But hadn't he taken one himself, after being out by the lake all day. She was probably doing the same as he.

But who might she have been spending all this time with? Had she gone into the library as he suspected, seeking the comfort of books for company? She'd gone to the library the last time she'd been brooding, and that's how she'd ended up here.

A horrid thought came to him next. What if she'd gone into the room again? What if she'd made another wish, and found herself in another place and time-maybe even the one she'd abandoned to begin with?

Tom didn't mean to do it, but he found himself standing just outside the bathroom door as she came out. She looked up at him uncertainly, and his own expression must have been equally troubled as he looked back as her. He couldn't decide what to say to her, so instead he wordlessly reached out and slid a hand into her hair.

With a soft sigh, Hermione let him pull her against him, just holding her. He could feel his heart pounding in his chest, but her own heart was pounding even harder. He placed his hand on it and looked at her with a slightly raised brow.

"I lost track of time studying runes," she told him softly, her voice catching as she spoke.

"Mmm, I didn't know it was that interesting of a subject," he said with a slight smirk, and began to trace little kisses along her eyes and forehead. When she inhaled softly, he knew she was enjoying his scent, and he did it as well. "Have you been eating strawberries, too?"

"Yes," she said, blushing.

"Comfort food," he said softly. It wasn't a question, more of an observation. His lips trailed down her nose and then found hers. But he didn't kiss her, just brushed his lips tantalizingly over hers instead, driving her crazy with teasing.

"I'm going to go to bed," she said as she began to move away.

"Whose bed?" he teased, drawing her closer again.

"Tom!" she protested, blushing again. But she didn't try to pull away as his lips trailed down the side of her throat. He moved to kiss her more soundly, but she pressed him away again. "I'm going to go to my own bed."

"Damn," he grumbled as he let her go. "Can't blame a man for trying."

Hermione shook her head with a heavy blush, and started to move toward her door. Her hand actually circled the doorknob when Tom's hand caressed the small of her back. She sucked in her breath again, leaning back against him as he drew her into his arms and cupped her breasts in his hands. His lips dragged along her shoulder and neck, and then he nipped her earlobe, making her groan in response.

"Are you sure you don't want to come see my bed?" he asked hopefully. "It's pretty comfy."

"Isn't it the same as mine?" she asked, surprised by the breathless quality of her voice.

"Yeah, except that I'm in it," he teased against her earlobe. "We could just cuddle and talk, if that's what you're afraid of." Hermione blushed even more, and Tom chuckled. "You haven't done it yet, have you, my good little princess? Damn, that's hot."

"How do you know if I've done-it?" she wanted to know. "Maybe I just don't like to hop right into bed with a guy on the first chance-"

Tom laughed as he let her go and scooted her toward her door. "No, you haven't done it," he teased her. "Tom Riddle knows all and sees all. I did a Tarot reading about you earlier today."

"Yeah, right," she scoffed.

"Okay, I admit it, I did look in your head," he smirked. "Why didn't you tell me both your best friends were boys?"

"I didn't really think it mattered," she said defensively.

"Were you in love with one of them?" he asked, trying not to seem as jealous as he clearly was.

"I-I thought I was, but I guess it was just because I wanted to believe it," she admitted. "The truth is, he and I never could have been more than friends."

"Are you sure?" Tom inquired. "I wouldn't want you thinking about him while you're kissing me."

"It was more like the other way around," she admitted softly.

"Then you did come back here because of me?" he asked triumphantly.

"Yes, I suppose I did."

"And you don't want to come see how much better my bed is than that thing?" he clarified.

"No, not so soon," she whispered softly. "I'd rather get to know each other in the here and now a bit better first."

"So, if you haven't done it, that means I wasn't able to seduce you in my dotage," he said with a mock dejected sigh.

"Ha, that's only because you couldn't have done anything with me anyway," she answered wickedly. "That thing was much too old and shriveled and-"

"Shut up, Hermione," he said, and then pressed her against her door to snog her massively. By the time he let her go, her knees had gone weak, and her resolve to get into her own bed was even weaker.

"Good night, Tom," she whispered softly, and went into her room, closing her door behind her. She tossed herself down on her bed and hugged her arms about her torso, willing her wayward thoughts to subside, but certain they'd be keeping her up well into the night.


	15. Amortentia

Chapter Fourteen: Amortentia

Hermione was up early the next morning, even though she couldn't seem to get a wink of sleep. She headed to the Great Hall for some breakfast before Tom even came out of his bedroom. It was Monday morning, and she and Tom had potions class again.

She remembered how much it had annoyed him Friday when she had answered all the questions, but she was determined that she'd do so again, if at all possible. After all, she wasn't about to try to keep him happy if it meant making herself miserable trying. Who was she, anyway, if not the know-it-all everyone said she was?

She was sitting at the front of the class in the seat she'd been assigned, with one desk between her and Tom, who had come in and cast her a look that clearly said he was annoyed not to have gotten to walk her there. She simply smiled innocently back, and then busied herself with trying not to look at him every five seconds while they waited for Slughorn to come in.

Abraxis Malfoy's desk just happened to be right beside Hermione's in potions class, and when he came to sit down he smiled warmly at her, making Tom scowl when the two began to talk.

"How was your weekend?" he asked cheerfully.

"Oh, it was fine," she said. "I spent most of it in the library studying."

"Oh, you didn't spend it with Riddle?" he chuckled, glancing over at him.

"Not all of it," she hedged, blushing slightly.

"Tom, what have you been about that's making our new Head Girl blush so much?" Abraxis wanted to know as he turned a cagey smile in his direction.

"Oh, I'm sure Hermione is perfectly capable of telling you herself," he answered. "Though I do have it on good authority that she doesn't like to kiss and tell."

Hermione would have made some kind of comment to this, except that Professor Slughorn stepped in and all talking ceased as he came to the head of his class. He cast everyone a friendly smile before he said, "Good morning. Would you all please hand in your assignments from the weekend?"

Most of the students sent their papers to his desk by charming them to fly there. However, Abraxis grabbed Hermione's papers as he brought his own up manually, and Tom's paper hit him in the back of his head as he went. Hermione, seeing this, cast him a quelling glance, to which he responded with an innocent shrug.

"So, today we're going to be making some Amortentia," Slughorn announced with a placid grin as Abraxas sat down again, casting Riddle an annoyed glance. "As many of you know, it is one of the most powerful love potions anyone has yet invented. Can anyone here tell me what ingredients go into this potion that cause it to be so effective?"

Hermione's hand flew up just as quickly as Tom's, and of course Slughorn could not help but pick her. "Sir, one of the chief ingredients of most love potions is ashwinder eggs, of course, but what really sets apart Amortentia from the rest is the use of unicorn parts. The blood is the most preferred, but it will work almost as well with hair from a unicorn's tail."

"Very good, Miss Granger," he said. "That's ten points for Slytherin. Is there anything you can add to this, Tom?"

"I think I'd add a dollop of peppermint, sir," Tom said jokingly.

"Ah, that's very amusing, Tom," Slughorn agreed. "Amusing, yes, but true nevertheless. You see, class, one of the effects of the Amortentia potion is euphoria, which can be controlled slightly with the use of peppermint. A most inventive additive, Tom. I'll give Slytherin another ten points for it."

"Thank you, sir," he said with a pleased smile. Hermione glanced over at him with a slight smirk, and he smirked back.

"And, since the two of you seem to be the most exuberant on the topic, I'd like you to prepare a draft of Amortentia so the class can see how it looks when done correctly," Slughorn added. "Up, up, you may use the lab beside my desk. The rest of you, I'd like you to study your texts while they work. And do try not to fall madly in love with each other during class. It might distract the other students."

"Oh, ha ha," Hermione scoffed over her shoulder as she followed behind Tom up to the front. At this, he stopped short so she'd run into him, and Hermione turned and pushed on his back, trying to get him to move.

"That's not a bad idea," he teased over his shoulder before he turned and placed his hands on her shoulders to place her in front of him, not letting go as the continued on their way.

"What isn't," she asked, surprised by the throaty quality of her voice.

"Making you fall in love with me," he whispered in her ear. "Maybe then you'd come see my nice, soft bed?"

"Shut up, Riddle, do you want them to hear you?" Hermione whispered back.

Tom laughed as he moved closer to her ear and asked, "Are you afraid they will?"

"Of course not," Hermione lied. "Now, where does Slughorn keep the ingredients? The shelves are not organized like they are later."

"I'll get them," Tom offered, running a hand down her back and arse before he moved away.

"Those two look like they've been imbibing the stuff all ready," Abraxas commented dryly, but when Slughorn turned to see what he meant Tom was at the shelf and Hermione was busily setting a pot and other implements out.

Slughorn cast Abraxas a confused smile and returned to his desk to read. He did not bother to look up often for the remainder of the time it took them to finish.

"Ah, it's perfect, just as I suspected," said Slughorn with a satisfied smile. Hermione sniffed deeply, the smell of fresh strawberries almost overpowering her senses.

"What do you smell when you are faced with the draught, Riddle?" Slughorn asked him curiously.

"Strawberries," Tom said with a slight glance at Hermione. "Definitely strawberries."

"And you, Miss Granger?"

"I-I really couldn't say," she answered, blushing furiously.

"Ah, well," said the Professor with a wistful smile as he called the others to have a look.

In her ear, Tom whispered, "Liar. I know exactly what you smell."

"Do you?" she inquired innocently, and deftly sidestepped his caress as she returned to her desk.

"I do," he told her as he returned to his own, his lips almost grazing her earlobe as he went.

Hermione sat there blushing and trying not to look at him for the rest of class.


	16. A Pilfered Potion

Chapter Fifteen: A Pilfered Potion

"That meeting went rather well," Tom commented as the last prefect went out and the portal clicked shut behind him. He was walking around magically cleaning up cups and plates that had been left on the coffee tables.

"Yeah, I can't wait for the Halloween party," Hermione agreed. "Maybe we could bob for apples."

"Only Muggles bob for apples," Tom said, his brow furrowing.

"It kind of catches on by the time I get here," she explained, trying to act like she hadn't just slipped up.

Tom chuckled.

"What's so funny?" she asked.

"Well, how do we know you're not the one who introduces it?" he inquired, still smirking. "Do you really want to risk changing when bobbing for apples becomes popular? It might upset the entire time continuum or something."

Hermione's face grew red as she replied, "That's not funny, Tom."

"Never mind that," he said, turning and taking her hand in his. "I've got a better topic for the evening anyway."

"Like what?" she said, though she had a pretty good idea. Her pulses began to race as he brought the hand to his lips and began to kiss each finger, making her giggle. When he'd gotten them all, he bit her thumb while casting her a wicked grin.

"You'll see," he chuckled.

"How about now?" she asked impatiently as she tapped her foot.

"Come sit with me by the fire, and then I'll tell you," Tom suggested.

"What fire?" Hermione teased him as she looked at the unlit hearth.

Tom waved his wand, and a cheerful fire burned where there hadn't been one before. Hermione chuckled as he took her hand and brought her with him to sit on the nearby sofa. Then he waved his wand again and a little table sat in front of them with two cups and a decanter with some sort of drink in it.

"What is that, Tom?" asked Hermione suspiciously, but ruining her stern effect with another giggle as he poured her a drink.

"Where did you get strawberry juice?" she wanted to know.

Tom smirked even more as he brought the drink to her lips. She took a sip of it, and then he sipped it right after.

"Hey, why'd you get out two cups if you're just going to steal mine?"

"It's more fun," he said. "Besides, that way if you ask me what is in there later, you'll remember that I had the same stuff you did."

"What do you mean, if I ask you?" she said. "What did you do to it?"

Tom chuckled. "Did you know a mild dose of Amortentia is a great aphrodisiac?"

"What?" Hermione gasped. "You nicked some of that potion from class, didn't you?"

"I might have done," he said, smirking even more.

"Oh, I should toss the rest right in your pretty, pretty face!" huffed Hermione.

"But you won't," Tom said confidently. "You're too interested in learning new knowledge for that. You'd far rather continue with the experiment."

"Is that what this is?" she wanted to know. "An experiment?"

"Not really," he said with another smirk. "I just thought it could enhance the mood a bit."

"What mood?" she grumbled, but she was already feeling totally hot and bothered by then, as he knew full well.

Instead of bothering to answer, Tom sat down the cup and encircled her in his arms, bringing her lips up to his as he drew her onto his lap. Hermione gasped as his questing fingers found a nipple, and he took the opportunity to plunge his tongue into her mouth. He could feel her heart beating rapidly against his chest, and she could feel his. She didn't seem to notice when his fingers undid her buttons, and she jumped in surprise as his fingers slid inside her bra.

"Tom!" she yelped, grasping his shoulders so she wouldn't fall out of his lap and land on the floor. But she slipped anyway, landing right on her bum.

"That is not part of the experiment," Tom said mirthfully as he slid to the floor as well, and crawled right over top of her as Hermione laughed almost drunkenly and lay back on the carpet. "Methinks you are having quite a reaction."

"Do you have any idea how much I want you, Tom Riddle?" asked Hermione as he plied her lips with sweet, hot kisses. "Gods, you are the sexiest man alive—at least you are when you're this age. I think you might not be quite as good-looking later, what with all that happens, but I'll bet even then you're still sexy."

"You mean you don't know?" he asked curiously.

"Not precisely," she admitted. "Although I'm told you look like you blended with a snake."

"Silly girl, that's love potion, not truth serum," he commented. "So I get to blend with a snake somehow? That sounds interesting."

"I shouldn't have told you that, I think," she said.

"Well, too late now," he chuckled. "But I have a snake right here you could see."

"That's got to be the lamest way to ask a girl for sex ever," she giggled. "Let's see it, then."

"What, just like that? You don't even want to douse the lights or go up to my bed or anything?" he asked with an even bigger laugh.

"I think you've given me too much potion, Tom," Hermione said softly.

"Why do you say that?" he asked as he leaned his chin between her breasts.

"Because I think I might love you with all my heart."

"That's nice, Hermione, it really is," he commented with his lips grazing her bared breast before he took a taste. "Because I haven't given you any potion at all."

"But the strawberries—" she began.

"Didn't I tell you I knew?" he smirked. "And now, my dear, about that visit to my bed?"

"Well, I suppose after that admission, it'd sound pretty silly to refuse," she answered huskily.

"Yes, it would," he agreed as he got to his knees and pulled her up with him. "And I suppose that since I haven't had any potion at all either, it'd sound kind of silly to admit I've fallen for you as well."

"No, Tom," she said with a smile as he drew her body against his again. "It doesn't sound silly at all."


	17. I Never Knew

Chapter Sixteen: I Never Knew

Hermione stood with Tom just outside his bedroom door. With a look that sent chills down her spine he drew her close and nuzzled her aer as he said, "We can just cuddle if you like, Hermione. I mean, I know you haven't done anything."

Blushing, she put her arms around his neck and kissed him with some urgency, and he lifted her up just enough to bring her with him as he stepped inside.

Tom tossed Hermione away from him so that she landed right in the center of his bed. Hermione scooted up into the pillows with an amused chuckle. "Good aim, Riddle," she told him.

He laughed contentedly as he said, "You look good in my bed, Miss Granger."

"Well thank you for having me, Mr. Riddle," she replied as he joined her there, making them both laugh again. Their merriment died down to mirthful giggles as he ley down and ran a hand down her body, and died away in a look so hot neither could seem to catch their breaths.

"Tom," whispered Hermione as he moved over top of her and plied her with ardent kisses.

"Mm, Hermione, you taste so good," he whispered against her ear.

Gasping, she turned her head, and their lips met in a kiss filled with heated need. Tom lapped at her lips, and Hermione opened for him, her hot breath grazing his cheek as his tongue pliged inside.

Hermione's tongue slid against his, and Tom growled in response. Their hands met and Tom laced his fingers into hers, sqeezing softly. She sqeezed back as he moved away. There was little time for her to feel bereft before he pulled off his school robe and tossed it aside.

Hermione reached up to loosen his tie, and he pulled the loop over his head and tossed it away with a wry grin.

"Tom, are you actually making a mess?" Hermione asked in mock surprise. "That's completely unheard of."

"Given the right incentive," he commented as his eyes trailed appraisingly down her curves, "I think the unthinkable just might happen."

"And what incentive might that be?" Hermione practically purred. She started to loosen her own tie, but Tom stopped her hands so he could take it off of her himself. Instead, she busied herself unbuttoning his shirt.

_Merlin, he's magnificent! _she thought, and her mouth began to water at the thought of tasting his naked flesh. She lifted her head so he could take off her tie, and laughed when he threw it in the same direction he'd thrown his own.

"What's so funny?" Tom asked huskily.

"How will we know which tie is which?"

"Who cares?" he answered with an evil grin, and then laughed again. Moving back, Tom pulled Hermione with and helped her out of her robe.

With a sudden realization Hermione remembered that she'd worn the set of green undergarments today. As his fingers worked at her buttons, a slow blush made its way all over her body, sending sweet heat to every limb and orifice. Tom Riddle was about to see her in her knickers, and she wanted him to with every part of her being.

She slid the sleeves of his shirt halfway down his arms, and Tom did not bother to remove it further until the awkward placement made it difficult to continue undressing her. When he'd reached her third button, he impatiently removed the garment in one swift action, then returned his attentions completely to her.

"What's this you're wearing" he chuckled as he pushed her blouse off her shoulders. "Now I understand why you wear that sexy little smirk of yours ever since we went to Hogsmeade. I wonder what prompted you to buy something so very-Slytherin?"

"I don't know what you mean," she replied innocently. "I haven't been smirking."

"Haven't you?" he asked as he trailed kisses along her throat and over the top of the garment in question. Hermione giggled and blushed hotly as he took her blouse off entirely. Then he lay her back and traced his fingers down her belly to the top of her skirt, slipping one finger just under the elastic.

"So, is it a matching set?" he asked with a hopeful grin.

The heat in her face traveled through her body at the speed of light. Her chest tightened and her heartbeat grew so rapid she could hardly find her voice, so that all that came from her throat was a tiny mewling sound rather than any words.

Tom's grin broadened even more. "Are you going to tell me, or shall I find out for myself?" he asked slyly.

"Y-yes," she managed to stammer. Her fingers traced along his biceps as he hovered just over top of her, holding his weight off of her with his arms on either side.

"Yes they match, or yes you want me to find out?" He leaned onto an elbow beside her, and his hands traced along as he spoke so that they were poised on either side of her zipper at the end of his question.

"Th-they match," Hermione managed to get out as she realized her body was beginning to shiver.

Tom's fingers slowly unzipped her skirt as he whispered, "I think I'll need to see them for myself-just for posterity."

Hermione lifted her bottom so he could slip the skirt past her hips. When he had her in nothing but her knickers, he sat back and gazed at her approvingly, making her blush even more.

"Gods, Hermione, you look good enough to eat," he told her, and his eyes wandered down to the apex between her legs with obvious hunger.

"Oh!" Hermione gasped when he snaked his hands up her thighs and slid his fingers into the elastic. With a wicked grin, he moved down the bed and positioned himself so his face was just above her center, making Hermione moan again. Her When he bit her knickers just above her clit, she jolted upwards.

"Tom!" she practically shouted.

Chuckling, he slid her bottoms down just enough to expose her mons, and nuzzled his way inside.

"Tom!" Hermione whimpered, and one hand shot down to his head, ruffling up his hair, which she knew he preferred to keep neat.

HIs tongue reached the place he wanted, and Hermione groaned as paroxisms of desire racked her entire body. Her other hand joined the first.

With aching precision, his tongue played with the folds before finding their way to her throbbing clit. Hermione groaned as her fingers grabbed and pulled gently on his hair, making Tom gasp against her quivering flesh. His tongue flayed her most tender area with merciless persistence.

Hermione let go of Tom's hair and grabbed the covers instead so she wouldn't hurt him. Fists clutching his blanket, she tried her best not to buck her hips, but with little success.

"Oh! Oh god, Tom, I'm going to come!"

Her words were the trigger to have Tom bury his face further and lap even faster. Hermione totally lost it. Her hips bucked wildly, and Tom held her with avid determination. His mouth was everywhere-in her, on her, tasting, touching, kissing and nipping.

"Oh god, oh god, Tom! Yes! Yes! Oh please, yes!" she screamed. Her head flung from side to side, all of her muscled bunched up, and she grasped his shoulders to hold on for dear life. Tom lapped up everything she had to give until she lay whimpering beneath him, her hands sifting through his hair again.

Then he crawled up her body to ply her with soft kisses.

"I never knew," she whispered as his lips grazed her forehead, her cheeks, and her lips.

Smiling, Tom replied, "That good, huh?"

"Fishing for compliments, Mr. Riddle?" Hermione asked with a slight smile, trying not to laugh.

"Mm, I'll be fishing for more than that soon," he said, kissing her again.

"That sounds either very heavenly, or very decadent," Hermione replied.

"I suppose it's a little of both," he said as he kissed her again, and then again. Hermione felt completely blissful in his arms.


	18. You Don't Know Everything

Chapter Seventeen: You Don't Know Everything

"You don't think you're done, do you, Tom?" asked Hermione playfully as she rolled on top of him and sat on his hips. She pressed him down into the mattress and gave him sweet, hot kisses until she was well rewarded for her efforts with the unmistakable feel of his arousal between her thighs.

"If you persist in cuddling me like that, there is no way you'll get out of this bed with your virginity," he informed her as his hands came down to grip her arse and enjoy the shape of it with a satisfied grin.

"Who said I wanted to?" she asked in a husky whisper. When his eyes widened at this pronouncement, Hermione giggled.

Tom's hands snaked up her body to cup her breasts, and his thumbs made little circles over top the fabric that still covered her achingly pert nipples. Hermione gasped, and bent down to kiss him again.

"Come here," he said, and tossed her down beside him so he could lie on top of her. He smiled as he leaned up on one elbow and arranged her hair artfully over the pillows, making Hermione giggle again. "Perfect," he finally announced.

"What are you doing?" she asked.

"Memorizing you," he chuckled.

"Don't you mean mesmerizing?" she asked as she brought her hands up to draw his lips down to hers.

"I hope so," he whispered against her mouth, kissing her with plenty of tiny, soft kisses before he ran his tongue along her lips before plunging it inside. They stayed that way as his fingers slid round to unclasp her bra. When he'd finished this task, they quested downward and tugged at her last remaining undergarment, his eyes filling with liquid gleefulness.

After Hermione allowed him to undress her, she reached for his belt buckle, undid it, and unbuttoned his trousers, not to be denied the pleasure of viewing his nudity any longer. Tom took off his pants, but left his boxers on with a wicked grin.

"No fair," she insisted as she pulled them down. He laughed and discarded them as well, so that the pair were now wearing nothing but their socks, which they removed by mutual unspoken agreement. "That's better," she said as she scooted back into the pillows, and Tom crawled up to kiss her.

After a while his kisses went from her mouth down the column of her throat, and on downward till his lips found an eager nipple to taste. Hermione's hands slid into his hair and she sighed contentedly. She felt his fingers slip down into her folds, and then one persistent digit found her sweet hole. She was still wet from his earlier ministrations, but still the place was untried and thus rather tight. He worked at her diligently until the first finger was welcome, and then put in another as well.

Hermione was far from idle as he did this, sifting her fingers through his hair, then pulling him back up for more sweet, hot kisses, and occasionally sighing when something he did felt especially nice.

"That thing is good and ready, 'Mione," Tom told her. "Are you sure?"

"Tom Riddle, I did not come this far to stop now," she informed him with a wry twist of her lips. "Have you ever seen me do anything halfway?"

Laughing, he said, "No, miss know-it-all, I haven't. But you know it might hurt, right?"

"As you have so aptly pointed out, I know it all," she answered with a good-natured grumble.

"You just got done telling me you didn't," he teased her.

"Do it, already," she told him, making him chuckle. After he bent down to kiss her one more time, he opened her legs and aligned himself with her, then pulled out his fingers and attempted to replace them with his throbbing cock. He groaned at the feel of her wetness on his eager flesh, but groaned again as he realized he couldn't get more than the tip to go in. His fingers worked at her clit and he bent to suckle her other breast a while before attempting to push through again. this time he got much more satisfactory results.

"They're right, it does hurt," said Hermione as her fingernails dug into the sides of his thighs.

Smoothing her hair over the pillows again, he said, "It'll stop soon. Just move with me."

This was one direction she was most willing to follow. In spite of the dull ache that was already beginning to fade, Hermione reveled in the feeling of fullness, and the sensation of finally being complete. What an irony it was that this man would be the one to make her feel so whole, so wanted, and so completely alive. Gods, how she wished they could stay like this forever.

"You feel so good in me, Tom," she told him.

"It's a pleasure to be of service," he answered, swooping down to taste her lips again. "I've wanted to be since the first time I saw you sleeping in that big bed."

Hermione giggled. "that would have been quite an interesting wake up experience," she told him, making him grimace.

"Stop it, woman, I'm trying to give you a really hot and memorable first time here, not end up dying of laughter."

By the way he said it, Hermione was certain he didn't mean he would die completely, but that if she wanted to continue with what they were currently doing she might want to do as he said. She needn't have been concerned, however, because next he wrapped her legs around his hips and set to with much greater purpose. One finger moved down to work her core, and soon she was thrashing her head from side to side and keening his name as though she were worshipping a god.

"Oh' Hermione, I'm going to come in you," he announced with a heady delight. "Yes, baby, it's all for you. Do you feel that? Oh, sweet Salazar, you feel so good!"

"Yes! Yes, I feel it, Tom!" she answered as she marveled at the way her body trembled beneath him. As he collapsed into her arms she giggled and said, "Okay, so maybe I don't know everything."

Tom's face was buried against her neck, and his chuckle vibrated her whole body. "No, Hermione, you most certainly do not."


	19. Knights

Chapter Eighteen: Knights

Tom debated for over an hour whether or not to cancel the meeting he'd scheduled with his knights, but in the end he decided to go. Hermione had dozed off in his bed, but he wasn't sure he should leave her there alone. There were things in his room he'd rather keep hidden.

In the end, he decided to wake her. "Hermione? Wake up, Mione, I have an appointment to meet some of my friends. You might want to take a nice, hot bath and go curl up in your room with a good book, as I'm certain I'll be gone a while."

"Mm, you're right, that sounds like a brilliant idea," she agreed sleepily, then pulled him to her for a kiss. "Unless you want to just stay here—"

"Now, now, no trying to keep me all to yourself," he chuckled as he tried to get away. "I've got to get going. Up, up, and I'll help you carry your clothes to your room while you head for the tub."

"Have you figured out which tie is mine?" she teased him as she grabbed her shirt off the floor and wrapped it around herself, then started to head for the door.

"Give me that, you silly woman," said Tom with a laugh. "I've already seen how delectable you are, why hide from me now?"

Hermione giggled and swatted at his hand when he tried to take the garment. "Stop that, my nipples are all puckered up."

"Hm, that sounds like something I might like to see," he said as he wrestled playfully with her until he'd gotten the shirt away. With an appreciative glance, he got onto his knees and wrapped his hands about her waist, drawing her torso to his eager lips. "That one tastes pretty good, better try the other one," he commented as he swirled his tongue in tantalizing circles over each. "I'd better stop, or I might be tempted to stay right here after all."

"And we can't have that, now, can we?" Hermione said with a husky laugh.

"I've created a sex fiend," Tom chuckled as he back away and stood up again. "Go and take your bath, love. I'll come in and see you when I return.

"Promise?" she asked with a smile.

"Definitely promise," he said as he kissed the top of her head. Hermione went into the bathroom while he set her clothes on her bed. She never heard him leaving over the sound of the water as she filled the tub.

#

It was dark and gloomy out in the forest. The harvest moon was high in the night sky, but shed little light through the thick, overhanging trees that had already begun to drop their leaves even though Halloween was still a few days away. The meeting tonight had been planned for some time now, and Tom was ready for it.

He could hear the low murmur of voices as he approached the clearing, deep in the heart of the trees where their planning could go unheeded. Only the Slytherin boys would be present tonight, though occasionally he allowed them to bring their girlfriends if nothing important needed discussing. Tom imagined himself there with Hermione on his arm, wondering if she would find it as thrilling as he did, flouting all the rules.

"Riddle, it's about time," said Abraxas with a slightly amused half-whisper. "We were beginning to wonder if you'd be able to tear yourself away from the fair Hermione."

"Hermione is of no concern to you," Tom answered, schooling his features to reveal no weakness where she was concerned.

"But perhaps she should be, no?" Abraxas said, looking over his shoulder at the others, who had obviously elected him to speak of their concerns. "I mean, what do we know about her? We don't even know if she's pureblood, do we?"

"Whether or not she is of pure blood is no real concern of mine, Brax," he said as he stepped into the middle of the group and began to pace about dramatically as he spoke. He knew what an impressive sight he was with his flashing eyes and enigmatic tone. When he'd gained the silent expectation he'd been aiming for, he continued, "No matter her upbringing, no matter her past, Hermione Granger is a powerful and knowledgeable witch. She will make a fine addition to our little group, if only we can convince her."

"Riddle, I think your own upbringing is clouding the issue here," Abraxas said boldly, looking over his shoulders yet again for the support he expected. "We formed this little club to put a stop to the mixing of Muggle and Magical blood. You have yourself said, on many occasions, that it is not to be desired. I'd hate to think your own muddy blood is skewing your thinking process. Or is it perhaps that you're thinking with something a bit lower for a change?"

"Malfoy, if I were you, I would not believe so faithfully in that lot to have your back," Tom pointed out icily as he gave the ten boys who looked on a cursory glance. "Whatever assurances they may have given you, I can assure you that not one of them would be foolish enough to forget just how powerful I truly am."

"You're just a half-blood pretender being led around by his d—" Abraxas began with a smirk, and then his face began to contort in pain as Tom wordlessly and wandlessly hit him with a Cruciatus curse. He keened in pain for a full minute before Tom released him as he fell to his knees before him.

"That's much better, Malfoy," he said, smirking himself now. "You must always remember this position before me after this. And if the rest of you are quite finished, we need to start planning out our own little Halloween celebration. The Muggles certainly won't be expecting the likes of us, will they?"

Nervous laughter met his ears, along with numerous voices of agreement. Abraxas stood up and limped over to join the other knights, ready to do Lord Voldemort's bidding yet again.


	20. Nights

Chapter Nineteen: Nights

After they'd made love that first night, Hermione and Tom spent more time in his bed than out of it once they'd finished their rounds each night. Halloween was approaching quickly, and Hermione was feeling especially triumphant over the fact that Tom insisted there should be bobbing for apples at the upcoming celebration.

On the night before the big event, the two sat companionably in the middle of his bed doing their homework for Ancient Runes class together. Tom wrote Hermione a letter in runes, and she sat trying to decipher it.

"Gods, your handwriting is terrible even in another alphabet," she teased him. "What is that word right there, anyway?"

"You know what it is," he said with a slight blush.

"No, no, I can't quite make it out," she said, trying to seem sincere. "Why don't you read it to me?"

"It says 'love'," he grumbled. "The whole thing reads, 'I long to make love to you under the moonlight.'" Hermione giggled when next he crawled right on top of their book and laid her back into his pillows. "But of course I'll settle for 'on top of our homework' instead."

"Tom!" Hermione protested weakly, and he knew she didn't really mind at all.

Laughing, he nibbled on the button of her blouse until he managed to work it open with his teeth and tongue, then moved down until only two remained undone.

"I long to make love to you during this century," Hermione protested, and undid the last buttons herself before surging up, pushing him beneath her, and deftly unbuttoning his shirt, growling at the undershirt he always seemed to wear. Not to be denied a moment longer, she ripped the thing from top to bottom, ignoring his protest, and then began administering hot kisses all over his torso.

"I've created a monster," Tom said in mock horror as his hands came up to sift through her hair. He felt her cringe at the words, and instead turned her face so she was looking at him, seeing the slight downward pull of a frown she was trying to hide. "Have I struck a nerve again, Hermione? You must tell me when I do, or how can I avoid doing it again."

"It's all right," she answered, and her voice quivered a little as she spoke. "You can't help it if my past is your future. I'd rather not talk about it."

"You know, Hermione, I was thinking that just because the past on your own timeline happened, that doesn't mean it has to happen again. You're not going to change and not come back here. On your timeline, you already have done it, so perhaps you can repair whatever went wrong so the 'you' on another timeline won't be hurt as you have been."

"I just wish I knew," she sighed as she laid her head on his heart. "Because otherwise, something quite drastic must be going to happen to you, to make you become what you were in my time."

Exasperated, Tom said, "Well, perhaps if I knew exactly what I became in the first place, I could help you figure out what's to be done about it."

"I—can't tell you," she said, and he felt a tear hit his skin. He reached down and wiped at her eye that he could reach, then surreptitiously wiped it onto the tip of his wand where it lay near his pillow. Wordlessly he cast a spell to keep it suspended there until he could have a look at it later on.

"Hermione," he said as gently as he could. "I'd take it all away if I were able. Truly I would."

"No, that's just it," she said. "It's too big of a part of history for you to take back. If you don't do some key things at the right times, I'm really not sure how things would turn out. More lives than just mine were touched by your extended reach."

"Wow," he said with a shake of his head. "So what, I'm going to become the equivalent of somebody really famous, like Merlin, or Nostradamus, or—"

"More like Hitler," she said, but her face was turned into his stomach.

"Who?" he asked her.

"Nobody," she answered solemnly. "Can we stop talking about this now?"

"Sure," he agreed. "I can think of much better topics of discussion."

"I'll bet you can," she agreed, and then he tossed her into his pillows and moved on top of her, making her giggle. "Now what topic could we possibly discuss in this position?"

"Perhaps I could bite rune marks into your neck," he said with a sinister smirk.

"Why would you want to do that?" she asked with a shake of her head.

"It's a territorial thing," he admitted. "Plus, I'm of the opinion you'd taste really good."

"Tom!" she gasped when he started to put action to his words. "Tom, what are you doing? What are you writing on my neck?"

"Hmm, I guess it turned out looking like a letter 'v'," he said.

"You did that on purpose," Hermione huffed. "I don't like that letter at all."

"It looks good on you," he told her.

"I'd rather have had the snake than that letter," she went on, forgetting that he didn't know about the symbol he chose later yet.

"Why are you on about snakes again?" he asked as he rained kisses on her forehead.

"I just am, that's all," she grumbled.

"Forget about the snakes, and forget about the 'v', and just kiss me again, you stubborn witch," he said in a slightly stern manner.

Hermione found that she could not disagree with him as he gazed at her with such an enticing smile on his lips. She pulled him down to her for a passion-filled kiss, and there was no more need for words for quite some time.


	21. Pensieve

Chapter Twenty: Pensieve

Tom stood outside the door to the Transfiguration classroom, furtively watching to be certain he had not been observed. He cupped the tip of his wand as if it housed the secrets of the universe—in a way, it did. At least the secret to his own. The teardrop he'd wiped there earlier remained intact.

Seeing that he was completely alone, he slipped quickly inside and shut the door, locking it. He knew that Dumbledore kept a pensieve in the back room because the man had shown it to him on more than one occasion.

He knew for a fact that Dumbledore and the other teachers were in a staff meeting discussing the upcoming Halloween festivities later that night, so he should have plenty of time to do what he'd come here for.

Surreptitiously, lest some object was not what it seemed, Tom made his way into the back room. With a wave of his wand, he brought forth the oblong shaped pensieve so that it sat upon a pedestal the Professor kept just for it. Another wave caused the bowl to fill with water, and then he gave three shakes of his wand above it, and the teardrop fell, breaking the smooth surface.

Tom dunked his face into the swirling liquid and felt it take hold, pulling him into the memory he'd so carefully collected and preserved. He felt only a very small twinge of guilt over having gone to such lengths. He needed to know what Hermione was so upset about, and he could think of no other way to find out.

Even before he began to see images swirling, her emotions assailed his senses, gripping him in their painful grasp. Hermione stood with two boys—fellow Gryffindors, and they were talking quietly together. He stood listening to all they said.

"Harry, Ronald, I am not going to keep passing messages back and forth between the two of you again," Hermione complained. "Besides, we have more important issues to deal with. I was in the library, and I think I've found something very interesting, It's an old year book, and I believe I have found a picture of—of him. You know, V-Voldemort."

"Don't say his name," gasped the red haired boy. "Do you want to call him right to us?"

"He can't come to Hogwart's, Ron," she scoffed. "Don't be a git."

Ron's face turned a deep shade of red. "Sorry, I forgot. I've been calling—him—You Know Who my whole life. It's difficult to stop now."

"Well, you're going to have to," Harry said. "If we're going to stop him, we have to get rid of every horcrux he's made. Only then would he truly be gone."

"Dumbledore told you more?"

"Yes, he did," Harry said seriously. "He and I are going somewhere tonight—I don't know where and I can't tell you much more about it, but I believe we're off to find another horcrux."

"Just don't get yourself killed, Harry," said Hermione as she gave him a hug.

Tom's gut clenched, and he felt his hand reaching for his wand to hex the dark-haired boy, He stopped himself, remembering that he couldn't hex a memory.

The scene swam before his eyes, shifting. He stood with Hermione outside the castle. She was crying, and a huge crowd had gathered around.

The boy, Harry, was shouting as he ran away, chasing after a large group of people who ran. A woman with a squeaky, shrieking voice was cackling as she ran ahead of a dark wizard who stalked rather than ran as he went. Tom wanted to follow them, but found he could not leave the sphere of Hermione's memory to do so.

He turned around, wanting to see what made Hermione cry. Along with all the others, she'd lifted her wand high in the air, emitting light from it. He looked into the center of the circle the people had formed, and saw a much older Dumbledore lying dead.

The red haired boy took Hermione into his arms, and she took comfort in his embrace. The two walked off together into the school. Tom followed.

Again the memory shifted, to a conversation being held in another place—someone's home.

Hermione said, "You mean they're gone? Just like that? They didn't even stay for the wedding."

"Hermione, calm down," said a man as he put a hand on her shoulder. "Ron and Harry left you here to keep you safe. They didn't want to risk it. If you were to get killed hunting horcruxes, the whole Order would suffer. We need a smart witch like you if we're ever going to end this war."

"So, what am I supposed to do now?" she inquired as tears sprung up in her eyes. "Why did they not even say good-bye? I thought they cared about me."

"Hermione, that's not it," the man insisted. "I wish I could stay to help you deal with this, but the moon will be full within three days. I don't think I'd be of much help to you then."

It was then that Tom noticed the long scar all down his cheek. A woman came to stand by his side.

"And then, once you 'ave finished with your monthly trouble, we can 'ave our wedding," she said as she embraced his side.

"And you're sure about it, Fleur? You're not frightened by the prospect?" he asked, looking worried.

"I love you for everything you are, Bill," she said with her heavy accent. "I always will."

"Hermione, dear, you must come away from the window," said a matronly woman with hair as red as that Ron boy's. Something about her made Tom think she must be his mother. "You're not going to call them back with wishes. They've only done what is right, and now you must accept it, and return to school in the fall. We're going to need your eyes there."

They went to the dinner table, where more red haired people sat talking. An older man said, "Yes, but you've all seen him. He's become a monster—he looks as though he's combined with a serpent. Such a vile creature does not deserve a trial. Harry's got the right of it. Once all the horcruxes are found, he'll see the deed done. I'm certain of it."

"Remus, are you feeling all right?" asked a concerned woman as she grasped the shoulder of the man beside her.

"It's just the moon, my dear," he said. "You know how cranky I get right before it's full."

The other man who had been speaking cast a sympathetic glance his way. The matronly woman came to sit by his side, while Hermione took a seat between twin red-heads, both young men, and cast a smile to each in turn. One gave her a bowl of mashed potatoes while the other gave her a bowl of gravy. They continued with their solicitous behavior as the meal commenced.

"You know that until the boys complete their mission, our hands are tied, don't you, Arthur?" the matron asked.

"Yes, Molly, dear, but I'm certain our boys can get the job done," he answered as he pat her hand. "Harry Potter is not the chosen one for nothing. You'll see."

Abruptly, Tom was pulled out of the memory. After a moment of disorientation, he shook his head and looked around, getting a feel for the here and now again. Then, remembering he was on borrowed time, he waved his wand to put the pensieve back and quickly left again, checking the hall for anyone who might see him, and emerging when it seemed free and clear.

He did not see Abraxas Malfoy watching from a nearby alcove as he disappeared down the hall.


	22. Pensive

Chapter Twenty-One: Pensive

Tom didn't want to go back to the dorm yet. His thoughts were a whirl of confusion as he tried to grasp what he'd just seen in Dumbledore's pensieve. He didn't know what to think. Sure, he'd created a horcrux when Myrtle died because he'd lost control of the basilisk for the briefest of moments. Sure, he'd created another out of anger when he'd killed his father—a memory which even now enraged him. How dare that man suggest that he, Tom Marvolo Riddle, did not deserve to exist?

But then again, perhaps if he because as bad as Hermione's memories painted him, he might not deserve to. But that was rubbish—he was here, he did exist, and so far the horcruxes Hermione and her friends had discussed predominantly did not. He could not imagine what sort of force could have exerted itself upon him that would make him become such a monster.

How could Hermione even look him in the eye? How could she bear to be near him at all, knowing what he would become? And yet she wished to preserve that future—her past—so that she could come here? Perhaps he wasn't the craziest of the two.

But he hadn't done those things, and if he could help it he would not do them. What did she think, that if he failed to do something as he'd done in her past that she would suddenly pop out of existence or something? That was ridiculous. She was here. She was real. And she belonged to him—even more so because she'd come here of her own free will and given herself to him. He refused to believe in anything but that she would be his forever.

As he turned away from the lake he'd been circling, a sudden fear gripped his insides. He'd put the pensieve back with Hermione's memory still inside. There was no way he could possibly sneak into Dumbledore's rooms again—the man had surely gone there by now. Panic gripped him. What if the old man noticed someone had been there? What if he found the memory—and saw it for himself.

Dumbledore already had little trust in him. He was always watching him like a hawk, scrutinizing him with the determination of the hunter that had zeroed in on its prey. What would Albus Dumbledore do if he discovered the memory? Had anyone actually said his name? He racked his brain, trying to remember.

He fell to his knees beside an old tree and crushed his mouth with his fist, trying to keep from crying out in anguish. Only Voldemort. They'd only used that name, surely? So, if Dumbledore did not know who Voldemort was, then Tom had nothing to worry about.

Perhaps he would try to sneak in during dinner. Surely the man would not remain in his own rooms to dine? He would be too busy meddling in everyone's affairs for that. Always plotting and planning, that man was. But he must not be allowed to suck Tom into those plots of his. It was worth passing up on a good meal to prevent him.

Tom went quickly back to the school, and darted down the abandoned hall toward the older man's rooms. He hid in a nearby alcove to wait for Dumbledore to leave for dinner, but is seemed to be taking much longer than it should. He knew he could not remain here forever, Someone was bound to find him.

"Riddle? Are you looking for me, perhaps?" said a voice from behind him. Tom froze, and turned around to look at him.

"Yes, sir, I was," he answered in stilted tones. "It seems like an age since you and I have done anything together outside the classroom. We used to gaze into crystals now and again. I kind of miss it."

"Ah," he said with a sage nod. "There was, in fact, something I wished to discuss with you," he said as he put a hand on his shoulder and led him toward the door he'd been watching. "It seems that Mr. Malfoy saw you here a bit earlier, and I wanted to ask you why?"

"Oh," Tom said guiltily. "Just looking for you, as I said. But you weren't about then, so I thought I'd come to try again."

Tom sat down on the large sofa as Dumbledore headed into his bedroom and brought out a large crystal ball, grinning wryly as he set it before his pupil and took a seat at his side. "Was there anything in particular you hoped to scry, Tom?"

"Oh, not really," he hedged. "Just my future in general."

"You're trying to see if you and that Granger girl will end up together, no doubt," he said with a knowing chuckle. "An odd relationship, that one. When she first came here, she was quite certain you were a monster, yet you have quickly convinced her otherwise, haven't you?"

Tom smirked. "I think I might have done."

"Just be careful, Tom," he said with one brow raised in a subtle manner. "You don't want to set off the Head Girl curse yet again. You do know the contraception charm, I trust."

"Sir?" he gasped in surprise. "Who would have taught it to me?"

"Yes, I'd forgotten, you were orphaned far too soon to learn it from your parents, even if they'd both been magical. I shall give you a written instruction on the matter—just in case."

"That might be useful, sir," said Tom, his face turning hot.

"I rather thought it might," he chuckled. "By the way, Tom, when you were here earlier, you left a memory in my pensieve. Would you care to tell me why you wanted to view it?"

"Did you view it, sir?" he asked softly.

"Indeed, yes," Dumbledore answered as he lightly fingered his beard. "Terrible thing, an evil wizard trying to take over the world. I don't suppose you have any idea who he is?"

"None, sir," said Tom smoothly. "I was hoping the crystal might help."

"No, Tom, this crystal cannot see quite so far into the future as all that," Dumbledore said. "Besides, you must know that the future is always in motion—constantly changing. That is why, until recently at least, I had always thought it impossible to travel through time. But it seems that somehow our young Miss Granger found a way. You never did tell me precisely how you found her, did you, Tom?"

"I don't believe we've discussed the issue at all, sir," he answered, keeping his face impassive.

"All I know is what Dippet told me," he said. "That she came from a future time, and that she knew me there. I thought it a bad idea to question her about it—but given the nature of this memory, perhaps it would not be such a bad idea."

"No, sir, please," Tom answered. "She doesn't know I saw it, and I'd rather keep it that way."

"Yes, Tom, perhaps that would be for that best," he agreed. "What do you say we forget all this for now, and go to the evening meal? Even the best of minds think better on a full stomach, wouldn't you agree?"

"Yes, sir," he answered, and the pair of them left together.


	23. The Halloween Party

Chapter Twenty-Two: The Halloween Party

"Where have you been all day, Tom?" Hermione asked as he took his seat beside her at the Slytherin table and began helping himself to the food.

Grimacing slightly, Tom replied, "A man's got to have a secret or two, hasn't he, Hermione?"

"Yes, I suppose so," she conceded. "But only if it hasn't got to do with another woman. If there's one thing I will not tolerate, it's—"

Tom was laughing. Hermione looked annoyed.

"My sweet, sweet Hermione," he said as he slid a hand down her thigh beneath the table. "What possible need would I have for another woman when you've worn me out so completely?"

"Oh, really?" she challenged hotly.

"No, not really," he answered suggestively in her ear. "But tonight we've got the Halloween party to pull off. We won't have much time for anything else beyond that."

"Hmph," she scoffed as she reached for the same roll as he. Their hands met and Hermione let go, allowing Tom to take the roll. He also grabbed one for her and set it on her plate. "Tom, I just can't figure out how someone so affable turns out to be so—not—affable in the future," she mentioned near his ear, so that no one else would hear her.

"Hush, love," he reminded her. "Perhaps I won't turn out the same at all, now that I have you."

The set of Hermione's shoulders tightened noticeably, and Tom began to rub one as he ate a chicken leg. She cast her eyes down and let him, but seemed unable to eat anything more.

"Come on, Hermione, you must eat something," he cajoled her. "We can't have you running out of energy halfway through the night, can we?"

"Would you two just get a room," Malfoy grumbled from across the table, and they both glared at him for it. Several of the other students at the table chuckled behind their hands.

"We already have a room, thank you very much," Hermione said sweetly. "Just no time to go back to it."

Abraxas laughed and cast a look over at Lestrange and Avery, who were each trying to keep the smirks off their faces. Then he cast his eyes on Tom again, saying, "You haven't forgotten about our little get together after the party, have you, Riddle? Boys only, Granger. But I'm sure you can find your way to your dorm to wait."

"Brax, that's no way to speak to my girlfriend," said Tom, the menace in his tone unmistakable. "Perhaps you and I will need to discuss your attitude further? But I will, of course, save that for another time. He is right, love, your presence at the after party would be—distracting."

"Then let us hope your behavior will remain as—exemplary—as it has been recently," Hermione answered, trying to sound complacent but failing miserably.

"Don't worry, my dear, as Brax has said, no women," he teased, and kissed her on the cheek.

"That's the least of my worries," she muttered so no one could hear her.

"What's that?" Tom asked as he tilted her face up to look at him again.

"Nothing," she lied. "It was nothing."

"Good," he replied as he let her go. "Now, let's finish up here everyone. We need to go make sure the underclassmen have properly set up the festivities."

#

Dumbledore was watching them. Hermione had no idea why the man cared, but his eyes had hardly left the pair of them ever since he'd come into the room. He neither smiled nor frowned, but his eyes never strayed far as the couple interacted with their friends. Hermione found it difficult to have fun with such close scrutiny trained her way.

"Tom, why is Dumbledore eyeing us like a pair of pork chops?" she finally whispered into his ear.

"What?" asked Tom, casting the old man a sideways glance. "Oh, perhaps it has to do with our own interaction earlier. He seemed awfully curious about you, Hermione. Have the two of you had any sort of interaction since you arrived?"

"None, other than the usual Professor to student variety," she answered. "I'd half expected him to ask me all manner of questions, but so far, nothing."

"How very—odd," Tom commented. "Hermione, I do not know what he was like in the future, but here he is a rather cunning man bent on attaining some measure of success. I would not be greatly surprised to learn he wished to be the Minister of Magic someday."

"Dumbledore?" she scoffed. "He turned that job down."

"Truly?" asked Tom, his brow furrowed in confusion. "Why would he do that?"

"I don't know," she said. "I suppose because he thought it more useful to mold our young minds than to deal with those already formed."

"What an interesting idea," Tom answered, rubbing his chin. "I hadn't considered it before."

"Okay, Riddle, we're all dying to know why there's a bucket of apples in water over here," Abraxas called. "What's it for?"

"Oh, that?" he said. "It was Hermione's idea. Tell them, Hermione."

"Well, where I come from, we put apples into a bucket and tried to get them out again without using our hands," she explained. "Usually, you're meant to grab onto them with your teeth."

"How very odd," Abraxas said. "Show us how, Granger."

"Of course," she agreed. It was a fairly easy matter for her to grab an apple with her teeth. She threw her wet hair over her shoulder and began munching away on her prize.

Running his wand down the length, Tom dried Hermione's hair for her. She cast him a look of thanks. "Aren't you going to try, Tom?" she inquired.

"No, I think I shall leave it for the others," he answered with a slight shudder as they headed for the punch bowl. "I prefer to remain dry—at least while I'm clothed, anyway."

Heat suffused Hermione's cheeks as she pondered his answer. She knew he was making a jaded reference to how wet they might get while she visited his bed. Or perhaps a bubble bath. She tried not to chuckle at the thought of enticing him to put down his toothbrush and get into the tub with her instead. Not a bad idea.

But she couldn't help but worry about Tom and the other boys' after party. Knowing what they became in the future, how could she not worry about the nature of the thing? Yet, if the events had already occurred once before, should she not leave well enough alone? It was maddening, trying to decide what she ought to do. And yet, the small voice in the back of her head persisted in its insistence. She may be unable to interfere, but should she not at least find out what they might be up to? She was fairly certain that she should.


	24. After the Party

Chapter Twenty-three: After the Party

Tom walked with Hermione back to the portal to their dorm. He seemed a bit reluctant to leave her there, and he took her into his arms and kissed her soundly. "I wish I hadn't planned this so I didn't have to go," he whispered against her lips.

"Don't go, then," she answered sensibly.

"It's not that easy, Hermione," he tried to explain. "They're not likely to understand if I don't go along. They'll think I've gone soft. I can't let them think that. Don't you see that?"

With a humorless chuckle, she said, "I know how bad Slytherins can be."

"Then I'll see you later, okay?" he said. "I'll make it up to you, I promise. And, I won't let Malfoy talk to you that way again. He'll be sure to see things my way by the end of the night."

"Of that I have no doubt," she said cryptically as she turned away from him. "Innuendo."

Hearing the password, the portrait of the dancing couple clicked open, and Hermione stepped inside without a backwards glace, closing it behind her. She knew that wherever Tom was going, she needed to be wearing something much less colorful than the silver and green domino and mask she had on at the moment.

She quickly mounted the stairs and waved her wand, and in a moment she was dressed all in black, her hair hidden beneath a cloak. She glanced at herself in her mirror and nodded with approval. Then, she quickly went down the stairs again and cast a location spell to see where Tom might be. He was still just outside the door, pacing.

_If he comes in here I'll have a lot of explaining to do, _Hermione thought worriedly. But soon enough, he headed down the hall and out of the castle towards the Forbidden Forest. Her spell didn't reach far enough to determine where he'd gone once he reached the trees, but she was certain to find them if she went into the woods herself.

Stealthily, Hermione went down the hallway, now abandoned, and out the nearest side door. She walked at a fast clip across the field and down the hill, heading straight for her destination. When she felt a hand grasp her arm, she gasped in surprise.

"Are you going somewhere, Miss Granger?" Dumbledore asked in his shrewdest voice.

"Of course not," she said. "I merely wanted a walk."

"It does seem strange for a girl from the future to be spying on her boyfriend on a night such as this," he commented dryly. "Tell me, why would you have need to suspect Tom Riddle of anything that would require such tactics?"

"He was gone all day, and now he's off for the night as well," she hedged. "I wanted to know what he's keeping from me. He didn't smell like another woman, but—"

"Miss Granger, we both know you don't suspect him of that," Dumbledore admonished her. "But even if you did, I could easily allay your fears by telling you that Tom spent the afternoon with me."

"Why would he do that?" Hermione gasped in surprise.

"Tom and I used to spend time together practicing divination—at least we did until the terrible tragedy surrounding the Death of the Muggle girl," he said. Hermione could tell he was trying to get a response from her, but she offered no bones.

"You never mentioned that in the future," she said instead. "I was always under the impression the two of you did not get on."

"Oh, no, Miss Granger," he answered with a slight smirk. "There's not a soul alive who can't get on with young Tom. He is the picture of what a young Wizard should be. Of course, only I know about his actual origins—well, Dippet and I, I should say. And you, of course."

"Yes, of course," she answered non-committally.

"And it would be such a shame if the others knew, would it not?"

"Professor, are you trying to get at something?" Hermione inquired. "Your behavior is quite peculiar. Nothing like the man I know."

"Years can change one, I suppose," he agreed. "But I do wonder, Miss Granger, why you would choose to come back to this place and time without warning, and strike up a friendship with Tom Riddle in particular, when it seemed very much as though you did not trust him when I first saw you together."

"No more than I trust anyone when I do not yet know them," she hedged.

"Indeed, yes, that is true," he agreed. "But for someone from the future, perhaps not as much? After all, I am fairly certain that you trust me?"

"Of course, sir," she said. "But I've known you half my life."

"And yet, Miss Granger, you have forgotten that I do not know you at all," he pointed out. "What am I to think of you sneaking about the grounds on Halloween night dressed all in black, but that you do not wish to be seen? And of course, headed in the same direction as Tom and his lads."

"You saw them, then?" she asked.

"I have turned a blind eye, Miss Granger," he said. "Boys will be boys, after all. They're only off for a bit of tomfoolery—no pun intended, of course."

"And you didn't stop them?"

"Miss Granger, have I ever told you what makes a man great?" he asked instead of answering her question.

"No, sir?"

"There are only two ways to become really great, my dear," he said. "Either by getting people to like you, or getting them to hate you. Gellert Grindelwald is considered great because he is the most hated and feared Wizard in the world. In contrast, I am angling to become great by showing everyone that I am kind, and dependable, and wise. But without Gellert to compare me to, would my greatness seem quite so great?"

"I—I don't understand, sir?" Hermione began to edge away from him.

"No, I don't suppose you do," he agreed as he fiddled with his beard. "Run along back to the castle, Hermione. You don't want me to take points from Slytherin, I trust?"

"Good night, sir," she answered uncertainly, and ran back to the castle as fast as she could.


	25. Speculation

Chapter Twenty-Four: Speculation

Hermione wasn't sure how to explain why she suddenly thought Albus Dumbledore was a creepy old man to Tom Riddle. She was aware that Tom did not care for the man, but she'd always assumed until now that it was because he always had his nose in Tom's business. But, since she'd spoken to him on Halloween night, she suspected it went much deeper than that.

Now two weeks had passed, and she was still acting unusual, she could tell Tom suspected something was wrong. She worried on her bottom lip, wondering what she would tell him if he actually asked.

They were sitting by the lake this afternoon, each with a book in their laps, attempting to study even though it was difficult to do when they were so close together. Tom's thumb lightly brushed the side of her thigh, and she felt the gentle touch all the way to her core. Her little shiver tipped him off as to her mood, and with a sly smirk he did it again.

"Tom, what are you doing?" she grumbled. "You know we have finals tomorrow."

"Let's go somewhere," he said suddenly, grasping her hand in his.

"What? Where?"

"How about Paris?" he inquired as he suddenly turned and laid his head on her lap.

Giggling, Hermione asked, "What, just like that?"

"Why not?" he said. "We're perfectly capable of popping right over there, right?"

"We're not allowed to pop off whenever we please," she reminded him.

"What's the point of wielding great power if you can't even do anything with it?" he wanted to know. "If I was in charge of the Ministry, I'd make a few changes, let me tell you."

Hermione sighed deeply when she heard this. She asked, "Like what, Tom?"

"Firstly, I wouldn't make wizards hide from Muggles like they are something unnatural," he answered. "I would not make seventh year students have to wait till they graduate to be able to use their spells outside of school. I would not make wizard orphans return to the orphanage for the holidays."

"Is that what this is really about, Tom?" Hermione asked. "You just don't want to return to the orphanage for the holiday?"

"No, Hermione, that's not what this is about," he said. "It's about wresting control away from the Ministry, because what they are doing is wrong. Someone has got to make the changes we need. Someone has got to make them see reason."

"And you believe you're the one to do it?" she asked. "Tom, you're a half-blood, they're not going to listen to you."

"I'm a direct decedent of Salazar Slytherin himself. I have a right to be heard despite the fact my father was a Muggle," he insisted.

"Tom, why do you preach about purity when you are not pure?" Hermione asked then, making him scowl up at her.

"My own circumstances have nothing to do with it," he said as he closed his eyes. "If anything, we half-bloods are even more powerful than those who wish to prevent us ever being born. And because of that power, I will be able to stop them. It's for that reason that the Ministry fears half-bloods so very much—because they know what we are truly capable of."

"But Tom, you have surrounded yourself with supremacists," she said. "Why would any of them follow you, or fight on your behalf?"

"Because my followers believe in the need to overthrow the Ministry," he said. "They are willing to do whatever it takes to reach that goal. It's about time that it was done. What happens after they are defeated can be dealt with then."

"Aren't you afraid that they are just using you to get inside? That once they've succeeded, you'll no longer be of any use to them?"

"Not if they value their lives," said Tom in earnest as his eyes opened so he could stare up at her. "And what about you, Hermione? There are so many things you know—you could help, too. Tell me the mistakes I made, so I don't make them again."

"I don't think I should do that, Tom," she answered uncomfortably. "I shouldn't have even told you that you'd combined with a snake. It's dangerous to know too much about one's destiny. But I'm not worried about any of that at the moment."

"Then what is bothering you, love?" he asked. "You've been on pins and needles ever since Halloween night."

"I—I wanted to tell you about this, but in order to do so, I have to admit something that might make you mad."

"What is it?" he asked, sitting up and watching her intently.

"I—I decided to try to follow you that night, to see where you and your friends went," she admitted. "I'm sorry, I was just worried about what you might do."

Tom looked angry, but he held his temper in check, merely grinding his teeth together a bit before he said, "Go on."

"Dumbledore found me sneaking around, and stopped me before I could catch up with you," she said. "He said something very strange."

"Really?" Tom asked, his whole body tensing up now. "What did the old man say?"

"Well, he told me he knew you and the boys were up to mischief, but because he wants to be famous for his goodness, he must cultivate an enemy to defeat. He told me that he could never be considered so good unless there was someone evil to compare him to. I think he's hoping to defeat Grindelwald soon, to make himself look great. But I also believe he hopes for a new opponent once the old one is gone. He's hoping to create Lord Voldemort, so that when he defeats you he'll look greater than he ever did before."

"Why do you believe this?" Tom asked as he rubbed the back of his neck.

"Because in the future you are the villain, and Dumbledore is the great hero who stands against you," Hermione said. "It all makes sense to me now."

"And you know that he kills Grindelwald? You know that he is famous for that?"

"For defeating him, yes," Hermione said. "And with him out of the way, it leaves plenty of room for you to take his place."

"So, I become great and powerful, but turn to the Dark Arts to do so?" Tom inquired speculatively. "What is wrong with that? It's just a means to an end."

"Everything is wrong with it, Tom Riddle," Hermione practically shouted. "People are going to die because of you. Doesn't that bother you at all?"

"It does, Hermione, and if I can avoid those deaths I will," he answered. "But my target is not Albus Dumbledore. I wish to stop the Ministry itself."

"And Albus Dumbledore seems to be willing to let you," said Hermione darkly. "The real question is, to what lengths would he go to make sure that you succeed?"


	26. Finals

Chapter Twenty-five: Finals

Tom glanced over at Hermione from across the potions classroom. She was biting her lip as she concentrated on her exam, and just seeing it made his cock twinge with desire. He knew he needed to concentrate, yet all he could see clearly in his mind's eye was his plans for the winter break, and how Hermione would be a part of them.

He had not given up on the idea that they should go somewhere together for their break, but so far he had not told her what he had in mind. After what she had told him about Dumbledore's upcoming battle with Grindelwald, he even had a particular destination in mind. He intended to take her to the south of France, where they might be able to find out just what Grindelwald was up to, and maybe even stop him if they could.

He had realized last night as Hermione slept beside him in his bed that she had given him a piece of the future. But perhaps if he were to stop Grindelwald himself, that possible future could be changed. He was completely certain that the change would not cause the Hermione in this timeline to suddenly pop out of existence. That wasn't the way things worked, as far as he could tell.

Perhaps he should not tell Hermione why he wanted to go to France, he speculated as he quickly finished up his paper—a task which proved far too easy even with only half of his mind occupied on it. Maybe he should simply tell her it was a romantic getaway, and figure out how to do the spying without her. But no, she was a powerful witch, and he needed her strength if he was going to succeed. He would just have to find a way to convince her.

The two walked together, holding hands, as they made their way to Transfiguration class. Old man Dumbledore's eyes fell upon them with a speculative gleam. Did he suspect that Hermione had told Tom what had happened? Tom did not want him to know of his awareness, so he plastered on a placid smile, seemingly in a reverie. But as he smiled and glanced lovingly at Hermione, his eyes took in every detail of what Albus Dumbledore was doing.

The tests were on his desk, and he busied himself directing his wand toward a piece of chalk that scratched away on a chalkboard, writing out the extra credit questions Tom already knew he would be answering. He released Hermione's hand with a gentle squeeze as he took his seat, and she continued on to the one she was assigned to. He hated that they could not sit closer together in this class as they could in all the others.

Dumbledore was watching him over the rims of his glasses, Tom noticed, though he pretended not to notice. Did the old man suspect anything? More to the point, had he said what he did to Hermione because he knew she'd tell her lover what he'd said? Tom was certain the man was crafty enough to do just that.

Already Dumbledore had been rewriting history any way he pleased. It was no accident that Tom had stopped spending time with him after Myrtle was found dead just outside the Chamber of Secrets. The old man had tried to accuse him of that killing, but Tom had found a way to stop him by accusing that oaf, Hagrid, instead. He'd been doing the lad a favor, really, for it was obvious he'd never be at the top of his class anyway.

But why did Dumbledore want him to know about Grindelwald? Something did not sit well with him as he tried to reason it out. It almost seemed like yet another trap, but what possible reason would he have for getting rid of one Dark Lord to create another? And hadn't he and Grindelwald once been friends? None of it made sense.

As methodically as ever, Tom made short work of his test while placing the greater part of his focus on more important matters. He would tell Hermione he wanted to surprise her, and get her to France before explaining his true purpose. Surely he could think of a good way to persuade her—he was nothing if not inventive.

He caught himself practically leering and shook his head to clear it. Not for the first time he wondered if he was becoming far too preoccupied with his bodily needs for his own good. Yet, he knew he would not trade the relationship he and Hermione had forged for anything in the world. Who would have thought that Tom Marvolo Riddle had grown sentimental? He never would have believed it himself if he'd been told a year ago.

"Tom, you seem rather preoccupied," Dumbledore said with a chuckle as he packed his books and prepared to leave. Hermione glanced back at the pair of them and decided that she was still too creeped out to spend any time with the old man. Only think, he'd brainwashed her for half her life into believing he was someone worthy of her trust. She shook her head and left Tom to it.

"Trouble in paradise?" I would not have thought so given the sheer number of silly smiles you've been wearing throughout that rather difficult test," Dumbledore continued. "But then again, I suppose it was not so difficult for you."

"Not especially," Tom answered, his eyes still trained on the door Hermione had just went through. "And no, there's no trouble at all. In fact, I was smiling because I want to surprise Hermione with something special over the holidays. I'm just trying to decide what the surprise will be, and how to give it to her."

"Miss Granger should still be at the school over the holidays, Tom," Dumbledore reminded him. "As you may recall, she does not yet have a home to return to."

"About that," Tom said with a frown. "I would like to remain at the school as well, if it is at all possible. After all, I no longer have any reason to return to the orphanage."

"Ah, yes," said Dumbledore. "I wondered if you might suggest it. I have already put forth the idea to Headmaster Dippet, and met with a minimum of resistance to the idea. I told him that you and I would like to resume our studies together. That is, of course, if you would be willing?"

"You want to study divination again?" Tom asked uncertainly, feeling all the plans he'd been working on falling down around his ears. "Perhaps, sir, but not until after my little surprise has been sprung."

"Do you intend to marry the girl, then?" Dumbledore asked curiously.

"I—I hadn't gotten quite that far ahead of myself," he answered uncertainly. "I'd like to be sure of my own position before trying to take care of a family as well."

"Very sensible of you, Riddle," he said with a smile. "Then, I shall expect to see you at your earliest possible convenience? And, perhaps you might bring Miss Granger as well?"

"You want me to bring Hermione?" he gasped. "Why?"

"I have my reasons, Tom," he said. "I am hoping to gain your help on a very important undertaking. I'd like to keep the number of people who know of it down to a minimum."

"All right," Tom said as affably as he could. "I'll talk with her about it, and let you know."

"Very good, Tom," he said with an indulgent smile. "Now run along. I believe you are expected in the Astronomy Tower this very moment."

"Yes, sir," he said with a nod, and quickly went out the door.


	27. Loving Kisses

Chapter Twenty-six: Loving Kisses

"Finals went well," said Tom tiredly as he and Hermione stepped inside their dorm. "I think we deserve a reward for all our hard work."

Hermione smirked. "What did you have in mind, Tom?"

"Come with me, and you'll find out," he answered, trying not to smirk as well. "I want to put the world on hold tonight, Hermione. The only thing I want to think about is you and me. Now, get your cloak and put it on. It might be chilly out."

"We're going outside?" she inquired curiously "I thought you were probably just going to take me upstairs."

"Not this time," Tom said, his hidden smirk widening into an irrepressible grin.

Hermione flicked her wand, and her cloak floated down the stairs. When she looked at Tom again, he was wearing his as well. Smiling, she folded him into her arms and craned her neck, seeking kisses. Tom bent forward willingly, and the two became passionate rather quickly.

"Not yet, love," Tom protested as he pulled back, avoiding more temptation. "Come, you'll spoil your surprise if you persist."

"But you taste so good," Hermione protested.

Tom bent and kissed her again, but more gently this time. His hands came up to play in her hair, and their breaths mingled together as he rubbed his sex against her lower belly—he was too much taller to meet up any lower unless she climbed up his body. She looked very much as if she wanted to do just that.

"Damn!" he said huskily. "Maybe it can wait."

Hermione giggled when he picked her up and practically ran with her up the stairs and to her bed, which was closer than his. Seeing where they were, she giggled again. "In here, Tom? This _is _a surprise."

"Merlin, I want you," he breathed out as he began fumbling with the buttons on her blouse.

"The feeling is mutual, I'm sure," she answered playfully as she swatted at his hands and finished the last three buttons herself. Next, she unbuttoned his fly, her grin broadening as Tom let out a little growl of annoyance that it was taking so long to be unclothed. "Silly man, you could magic the clothes away if it's that frustrating."

"I don't want to," he informed her. "I like the anticipation too much."

Giggling, Hermione slowly undid his zipper, making him groan in response. "Woman, if you don't get me out of there soon, I'm going to explode."

"Mm, not yet, you're not," she informed him. "I've got a special place for that."

"I know," he said with a chuckle. "I've been trying to get inside that spot for the past five minutes now—"

Giggling again, Hermione laid on her bed and lifted her hips as she said, "Here, if you want in there so much, why don't you help me out of my undies, and then you can have what you want."

"Well, they don't have to come off necessarily," he teased her as he lay on top of her, simply moving aside the crotch as he pulled his eager cock free and mounted her, their legs still hanging off the end of her bed. He braced his knees and held onto the bedpost, and proceeded to show her just how impatient he could be.

"Sweet Merlin, Tom, that feels so nice," she said as she angled her hips into a better position and thrust up to meet him. He moaned at the feel of it, and let go of the bedpost so he could latch onto her hips instead. Lifting her a bit, he slid her further onto the bed so he could rest his knees on the edge.

Hermione wrapped her legs around his, drawing him in even more, and heat sweltered between them. Tom fell forward and gently sank his teeth into the side of her neck, groaning with each thrust as he ran his tongue along her jawline, then moved in for a kiss.

"You feel so good, Hermione," he told her several times as he hurried the pace. "So damned good!"

Hermione was beyond words now as Tom worked his magic, firing her blood to a fever pitch. She felt her walls closing over him, and felt his shudder as he fed her eager womanhood what it was looking for. Totally spent, the two clung together for a while until they could breathe again.

"That was—incredible," Hermione finally managed to whisper.

"That was—just an appetizer," he answered, grinning as he moved off of her. "Come on, get dressed. You're going to absolutely love this."

#

A cool breeze played across the field as Tom and Hermione walked briskly toward the gates that led out of Hogwarts. Once they were free of the charmed schoolyard, they would be able to Apparate wherever they liked, so Hermione had no idea what to expect as they passed the invisible barrier and Tom reached for her hand.

"Hold tight, love," he warned her. "This is a pretty big jump."

Hermione didn't get a chance to ask the question that formed on her lips as a result of this statement, for before she could say a word her body was suddenly sucked into a vortex, and it seemed like an eternity before it pieced together again.

When she looked around, she realized with a start of surprise that they must be in Paris. It was rather glaringly obvious since they'd popped right in front of the Eiffel Tower.

"What are we doing here, Tom?" she asked. "I thought we discussed this."

"Just a little romantic getaway, my darling," he whispered into her ear. "I've booked us a room for the weekend."

"I hope you know what you're doing," she said with a soft sigh.

"I'm wooing my lady," he said with an indulgent grin. "All ladies like a bit of wooing, so I'm told."

With a wry chuckle, Hermione shook her head. "Well, yes, I suppose we do," she had to agree as his hand slid down her back to urge her forward. They strolled together amiably until they came to a small inn and Tom brought her inside. There, he plied her with wine and suggestions until she was quite ready for something more.

"Shall we take a bath?" Tom asked with a playful grin.

"How can we?" she asked. "You don't have your toothbrush."

Reaching deftly into his pants pocket, Tom pulled free his toothbrush with a grin.


	28. We'll Always Have Paris

Chapter Twenty-seven: We'll Always Have Paris

"This has got to be the biggest tub I've ever seen," said Hermione as she came up for air and shook her wet curls out of her eyes. "It's more like a swimming pool, really."

Tom chuckled as he watched her through the mirror by the sink. He was brushing his teeth, and taking his sweet time about it, too. He could tell she was starting to get impatient when she snorted irritably at his lack of an answer.

"Those have got to be the cleanest teeth I've ever seen, too," she added pointedly.

"Oh, yes?" he answered, toothbrush still in mouth. "How many sets of teeth have you actually checked for cleanliness? Half a dozen? More?"

Hermione sent a wordless hex right toward his delectable—if still clothed—arse. It miffed her further that Tom had second-guessed this as well, and easily blocked it, chuckling as he did so.

"Was there something you wanted, Miss Granger?" he inquired innocently.

"Yes, as a matter of fact there is," she answered. "I'd like to see you in this huge, heart-shaped bath tub right this very minute."

Without another word, Tom sprinted to the edge of the tub and dove in, clothes and all. Hermione laughed as she pulled his head up out of the water and proceeded to give him mouth to mouth with great pleasure.

"I forget to mention, your naked body," she added as an afterthought as she began to peel off layer after wet layer. "That part was also important."

"Too late," he chuckled.

"Your pants floated away," she informed him.

"Hmm, I don't think anyone's ever told me that before," he mentioned.

"Doubtful," she agreed as she began to nibble at his lips, then nipped his neck, then on down one of his shoulders.

"Where are you going?" he inquired in a husky tone.

"Wouldn't you like to know?"

"Mmm, I have a feeling I would like to know very much," he said, sighing with pleasure as her head disappeared beneath the bubbles.

#

Several hours later, Tom and Hermione were lying on the huge bed piled high with white furs. Tom was on his back, airing out his well-satisfied cock. Hermione was on her stomach, luxuriating in the softness. Glancing over at her, Tom began to stroke the small of her back.

"Now tell the truth, Hermione, aren't you glad we did this?"

"Infinitely glad," she admitted as she leaned into his touch. His hand smoothed its way to the front of her and caressed her nipple. "More and more glad," she added playfully.

"You want it again already?" Tom inquired with an indulgent smile.

"I love it when you touch me, Tom," she told him as she rolled over to face him.

"I love to touch you, Hermione," he said as his lips meandered along her flesh and took the place of his fingers so they could find another area to explore.

"I never would have believed that, before," she told him as she feathered her fingers through his hair a few times.

"Maybe you can believe this," he answered softly, and began kissing his way lower. Hermione bit her lower lip in anticipation, when suddenly they both heard a loud popping sound.

"What the devil!" shouted Tom as he turned to see who had dared to intrude on their idyllic evening. "Professor Dumbledore?"

"Tom, I believe I told you I wanted the two of you to visit me as soon as possible," he said with one brow raised slightly. He could just as easily have been discussing the weather or politics with the mild tone he employed.

"Can't it wait until morning, at least, sir?" Tom asked hopefully.

"Get dressed," said the old man. "Since you're in Paris, you may as well make yourselves useful in a bit of reconnaissance work."

"You have got to be kidding," Hermione said as she glowered at him and wrapped the fur around herself.

"Don't bother, sweetheart," he said. "I'd be more likely to look at him if I was going to bother."

"What a vile thing to say," Tom growled. "I thought you were so old the thing had fallen off by now anyway, truth be told."

"I wouldn't be surprised if it has," he smirked. "I'll be outside. Join me in five minutes—not a minute more."

With that, Dumbledore popped out of the room again.

"So much for the weekend," Tom grumbled.

"We're not actually going to help him, are we?" Hermione wanted to know.

"For now, yes," he said. "At least until I can find out what he's really up to."

Hermione sighed, then chuckled as she said, "Well, he did give us five minutes—"

"I'm way ahead of you," Tom chuckled, and rolled her out of the fur again. "Let's see just how fast you can get dressed when I'm done."

#

"It took you two long enough," Dumbledore grumbled.

"Sir, why are you here?" Hermione wanted to know.

"I'm doing some field work for a bit of research," he explained. "I believe Mr. Riddle might have an idea what I'm talking about. Have you ever heard of something called a horcrux, Miss Granger?"

"Yes," she said, her eyes widened in surprise. "Harry told me all about them."

"Tom, here, unwittingly discovered a book about them as well," he said. "I gave little thought to it at the time, but the more I thought about it, the more I realized how easily a dark witch or wizard might be persuaded to make such a thing. Did anyone do so in your time, Miss Granger."

"I—don't know, sir," she said uncertainly. "I thought it would be a bad idea, discussing the future in this time. I'd rather not say any more about it."

"Did you know, Miss Granger, that it is not always an object into which a horcrux might be placed?"

"What else, then?" she wanted to know.

"I have heard they can be placed inside another person," he told her.

"And why should that have brought you here, sir?"

"Because, Miss Granger, I believe such a horcrux may exist already," he said. "However, I am uncertain of how or when it may have been formed."

"A human horcrux?" Tom asked with shocked surprise. "And who, sir, do you believe it belongs to?"

"Gellert Grindelwald," he said as he watched Hermione with avid eyes.


	29. A Bit of Research

Chapter Twenty-eight: A Bit of Research

Tom Riddle set a cauldron onto the table beside Dumbledore with a clattering noise. He and Hermione were in the old man's rooms at Hogwarts trying to create a potion that could remove a horcrux from someone's body.

"You have yet to tell us who you believe you'll be giving this potion if we should perfect it," Hermione pointed out as she glanced over at the pot with one brow raised dubiously.

"As I've told you, I've no idea," Dumbledore said. "But it's taking too long, trying to get the ingredients correct. It's almost Spring and we've gotten no farther than we were when we started. There must be an ingredient we haven't thought of."

"Sir, there's something I'm curious about," said Tom as he began to add ingredients into the cauldron. "When these potions are finished, what exactly have you been testing them out on?"

"Do you really want to know, Mr. Riddle?"

"Sir, you can't possibly test out a horcrux removal potion unless you have a horcrux to use it on," Hermione pointed out.

"That is quite correct, Miss Granger," Dumbledore agreed. "As it happens, I have an assortment of objects in which horcruxes reside. You'd be amazed how widespread the practice of making the things used to be. My father made three himself in his day."

"He made more than one?" Tom asked, surprised. "But I thought you had to murder somebody to make a horcrux."

"As well you know, Mr. Riddle," Dumbledore reminded him.

Tom's hand absently twisted the ring on his finger as he remembered how he had come by it.

"Has anyone ever accidentally created a horcrux in self-defense?" he asked.

"No one that I know of," he answered with a slight smirk. "You see, Tom, a murder occurs because someone becomes so angry or so desperate to see someone dead that they make it so. Otherwise, it would not be a murder, would it?"

"I suppose not," Tom conceded.

"Regardless of any remorse after the fact, it is the moment at which the death occurs that makes all the difference," Dumbledore added. "You can't take it back once the deed is done, can you?"

"Of course not," said Tom, his voice trailing off as he began to add something else into the potion. "But you say that people used to simply kill someone to make these horcruxes as a common practice at one time? How barbaric."

Hermione watched as Tom's face contorted slightly with a hidden pain. She wondered if he was actually feeling guilty over killing his father. It made no sense to her, given what Dumbledore had told her about him in the future. More and more, she was coming to realize that nothing Albus Dumbledore had to say was as it seemed. What other lies about Tom Riddle had he uttered to her trusting ears?

The old man was peering over his glasses in Hermione's direction now. "Why so quiet, Miss Granger?" he wanted to know.

"No reason," she answered in stilted tones. "Just future tripping."

"You've heard all of this before, I trust?" he asked curiously. "What does the Hermione Granger of the future know of horcruxes?"

"I'd rather not say," she hedged. "It can be nothing that will be helpful for the current situation."

She almost thought she saw a calculating look in the old man's eyes before he hid it behind a mask of mild amusement. Knowing better than to allow the man to hold her gaze long enough to see inside her mind, Hermione turned to watch Tom continue his work instead.

"How is this batch coming along, Tom?" she asked brightly. "Better than the last attempts, I trust?"

"Yes, I think I may have stumbled upon a likely combination," he answered distractedly, totally concentrating on the bubbling brew before him.

"Then let us try it out on this," said Dumbledore as he brought forth a sparkling tiara.

"Where did you get that?" asked Hermione curiously. "It looks familiar somehow."

"It should," Dumbledore commented. "It is shown on the depiction of Rowena Ravenclaw you see hanging on the entrance to their house. It has been believed to be missing for many years, but recently I sent Tom to find it. Of course, he didn't know what he was retrieving at the time."

"Sir, I believe it's ready," said Tom as he glanced up with one brow raised. "You know, it wasn't very easy getting that thing past all the pixies, and the Gray Lady was none too pleased either. You could have at least told me what all the fuss was about."

"All for a good cause, Tom," he said with a smirk. "Shall we?"

"Yes, sir," Tom agreed, scooping up a cupful of the potion and pouring it onto the ancient artifact. It began to bubble and sizzle along the metal, and then suddenly they all heard a loud pop. After the smoke cleared, they all moved forward to see a small, shriveled up creature that resembled a human only because it had arms, legs, and a head. It mewled pitifully as it gazed up at all of them.

"And who's horcrux might you be?" Dumbledore inquired as he looked the thing over.

"I don't remember," it gasped. "Please, I think I am dying."

"How very unfortunate," said Dumbledore as he continued to make no move toward the creature. "I only wish I knew how to prevent that."

With a final gasp, the creature's life expired, and it crumbled into dust on the floor.

"Well," said Dumbledore. "That was—interesting."

"But what does it mean?" Hermione asked him.

"It means, my dear, that we can get a horcrux out," Dumbledore explained. "At least, we can get it out of an object. That is at least more than we knew how to do before this. Thank you, Mr. Riddle. Your help has been invaluable so far."

"Yes, of course, sir," said Tom as he tried to mask his worry. "Always glad to be of help."


	30. Beltane

Chapter Twenty-nine: Beltane

"Hurry up, Hermione," said Tom as he poked his head through her bedroom door. "You know we're expected to reside over the Beltane feast in less than an hour. We should have been there already."

"Is it my fault you wanted a taste of the real thing before we went to pretend?" asked Hermione with a playful grin. She was standing in nothing but her bra and panties—the silky green ones, and Tom took in the fact with appreciative eyes.

"If you're not covered up soon, I'll be tasting it again," he told her with a grin.

"Out, you!" she told him sternly. "You know they'll take points from Slytherin for sure if we show up late to our own party."

"It'd almost be worth it," he answered as he stepped inside instead of heading in the other direction, drawing her luscious curves into a close and somewhat unchaste embrace.

"Let go, Riddle," said Hermione in an even sterner tone. "I'll hex you good."

"Promise?" he asked unrepentantly.

"Oh!" Hermione fumed.

With an amused chuckle, Tom let her go and pointed his wand at her, making her clothing put itself on her rather quickly. Hermione was dizzy from spinning about afterwards, and had to shake her head to clear it.

"Let's go, then," he said, offering her his arm, which she took as she cast him an annoyed glance. "And do try to smile, Granger. This is supposed to be a happy occasion."

As they reached the stage where they were supposed to be seated along with the Hogwarts staff, Dumbledore met them at the edge. "There you two are," he said, glancing around a moment to be certain they were alone. "I've found an artifact of some interest we'll need to look at as soon as possible. I'd like to do so as soon as the party is underway and they won't be needing us for a while."

"What did you find now, Professor?" Hermione asked tiredly.

"This one is a goblet," he explained. "I strongly suspect its horcrux may belong to Gellert himself. We really must try to get it out, and see if it's possible to keep the thing alive for any length of time."

"Why the deuce would you want to keep Gellert Grindelwald's horcrux alive for any length of time, sir?" Tom wanted to know.

"I suspect his horcrux would be much stronger than the others," he explained. "Would it not take a very strong soul to maintain its horcrux outside of a vessel?"

"Yes, I suppose it would," Tom conceded. "But we must not talk of this here, sir, as well you know. Just because we can't see anyone about does not mean we are unobserved."

"Quite right, Tom," he agreed. "I am usually far more careful than this. I was too excited, I fear. Good of you to point out the flaw."

"As always, sir, I am pleased to be of help."

Hermione felt the tension crackle between the two men, each of whom vied for the upper hand. She hoped Tom would not be forced to show his hand too soon in order to keep the old man in check, for they needed to know what was really going on, and Dumbledore seemed to be the only one who did.

Their eyes met behind Dumbledore's back, hers pleading and his angry. He schooled his features almost as soon as the emotion had flashed across his face, and an easy smile returned to it before their Transfiguration Professor turned back to them again.

"We'd best join the others," he told them, his own voice mellow in spite of the fact his shoulders were so tense. The two nodded in agreement and they all went to take their places.

Armando Dippet stood at the front of the stage, saying a few words to the gathered students below as they all milled about on the field near the Quidditch Pitch. Gathered In the back, the choir began to sing a few songs of Beltane and the pleasures of May, including the coupling songs that spoke of Beltane and its delights in particular, ending with a smooth, sexy number that was the cue for Tom and Hermione to step down and lead the procession over to the Maypole.

Hermione blushed as Tom put her streamer into her hand, for his touch had sent little shivers down her spine. Not for the first time she wondered at how she had come to be here, and how this man had found her and brought her into his world. Her heart thundered in her chest as she set a streamer into his hand as well, and the two could not resist sharing a tender kiss at this point, eliciting a cheer from the other young people as they surged forward to take their streamers as well.

Laughing merrily, Tom and Hermione started to run in circles around a tall pole, and the others followed along behind. By the time they'd finished their frolicking the pole was completely wrapped in the long streamers, and a cheer rippled through the participants as the surveyed their handiwork.

"Everyone, let's eat!" said Tom with a pleased expression, and they all ran for the tables, which had been set up on the field itself. As the others ran in, the male prefect and Tom himself were each expected to grab a torch and toss it into the pit to start a huge bonfire.

Tom and Hermione had been running hand in hand, but now Hermione had to let go so he could tend to his torch. She clasped his hand tighter for a moment as their eyes met in a promise of things to come later that evening, and then he raced off while Hermione turned and went to one of the tables at the front, sitting down beside Dumbledore himself.

"My dear, do you think it wise to entangle yourself so fully with another person?" he inquired. "It is always best to keep a bit of oneself for later, if you take my meaning."

"Why should I do that?" Hermione asked. "I happen to know he's not going anywhere soon—he'll live at least another fifty years, same as you."

"Yes, of course," Dumbledore agreed. "But how do you know that you will? I don't believe I've ever heard there was to be a Dark Lady as well as a Dark Lord."

Hermione's brow rose at this. "What do you know about that?" she demanded, then looked around to make certain they were not being overheard.

Dumbledore flicked his wand, casting a spell to insure they would not. "I know a great deal more than you think."

"Like what?" she asked hotly.

"I know that the reason you've heard of horcruxes was because I told you myself," he said. "Or, at least I will tell you, through that friend of yours. Harry Potter, is it?"

"You know about Harry Potter?" Hermione gasped. "But how?"

"That time turner I will be giving you, of course," he said. "Do you still have it, by any chance?"

"No," she answered warily. "I didn't exactly pack for the journey back."

"Pity," he said. "Two of them would be much more useful than one. But, there is Tom. We shall have to save our little chat for another time, don't you think?"

"I think I'd rather not discuss any of this with you at all," she told him as he dropped the spell in time for Tom's arrival.

"Well done, lad. I think your torch may have been the brightest of them all."

Hermione smiled up at him as he sat down on her other side. "I have always believed it was," she said as she took his hand in hers. They all began to eat, and the food was as wondrous as it always was. Hermione wished it would be possible to remain here at Hogwarts forever, and just for the moment she pretended that it was so.


	31. A Human Host

Chapter Thirty: A Human Host

"Sir, why have you brought us here?" Tom wanted to know as he peered out through a small window on the side of the clockworks inside of Big Ben. He had to raise his voice to be heard over the noise made by the machinery.

"There's someone I would like you to meet," Dumbledore told them with his most enigmatic smile. He was practically beaming.

"Why would we meet them here?" Hermione wanted to know. Her tone of voice and body language made it very clear she did not want anything to do with the old man or his crackpot experiments, but Tom knew she would remain because he had asked it of her.

"You see, Miss Granger, this particular person would not wish to be identified as one in which another person resides," Dumbledore explained. "The practice of making horcruxes was quite widespread at the turn of the century, but now it's quite out of fashion. For some time now, our guest has wanted his—guest—out. So much so, in fact, that he's willing to risk death to see the deed done."

"Fascinating," Tom commented as he rubbed his chin. "But sir, do you intend to use the potion as is, or should we not take into consideration the size and strength of the person within whom the horcrux resides?"

"What do you think is best, Tom?" he asked. "After all, you seem to be the mastermind behind this field of study, as it were."

"What can you tell me about the man?" Tom inquired.

"He is an average-sized male, relatively strong magic, about the age of forty," said Dumbledore.

"Hmm," Tom said. "You should have told me all this before we came. I have no cauldron, no ingredients to brew—"

"Everything you need is right over there, Tom," he answered with a chuckle, and with the wave of his wand the invisibility charm he'd cast was ended, revealing a rather sophisticated setup consisting of a table, cauldron, and any kind of ingredient Tom could possibly want.

"Impressive," Tom told him appreciatively. "I'll begin immediately. I'd hate to keep our first customer waiting."

Albus laughed. "Tom, you don't think we're doing all this to help people, do you? Perhaps in a way, yes, but I certainly had no aim to market this stuff. I mean, how many people do you suppose would wish to buy a horcrux-extracting potion?"

"To hear you talk, I understood it to be quite a few," he answered with a raised brow. "And if it's not for that purpose, what other did you have in mind."

"I've told you already, Tom, we're trying to extract Grindelwald's horcrux," he said with an impatient sigh. "I thought you were smart enough to have remembered that."

"Sir, I've known enough people in my time to know that more than one motive for a particular invention is more than possible. In fact, I'd have to say it was more likely probable."

"You're a bit smarter than you ought to be, Tom," said Dumbledore, his magnanimous smile taking on a decidedly creepy air. "My motives are my own. You would be wise not to pry any further than the surface."

"Yes, sir," Tom answered. He had half a mind to botch the potion, but the old man watched his every move like a hawk. He would spot it for sure if he tried to alter the potion in any way.

Hermione's voice rang out in shocked surprise, "Cornelius Fudge?"

"Quiet, girl, do you want someone to hear you?" growled the man in question. He was, of course, much younger than the Cornelius that Hermione remembered, but there could be no mistaking who he was, as the man would one day become Minister of Magic.

"Sorry, sir," she answered contritely, then cast Tom a bewildered look behind the backs of the two men as Dumbledore greeted his friend.

"Cornelius, I believe you know Tom Riddle," said the old man silkily. "And the girl behind you is Hermione Granger. She is an especially bright pupil of mine, and so I have brought her along to help out in the endeavor. But of course, you must understand that all the real credit shall go to Tom if he pulls this off."

"Indeed," said Fudge, his smile every bit as oily as Dumbledore's.

Hermione wished she could tell Tom who the man he was about to remove a horcrux from was very important in the future from which she came. But short of blurting it out and thus alerting them all as to the man's future job, there was little she could do.

Of course, there was always the possibility that he would kill Fudge, and alter the future as a result. Hermione didn't like the man, and had always suspected him of being rather shifty, but she would still do everything she could to ensure his survival. Without him, every event that had led up to Hermione coming here might never happen at all. She might never come back and be with Tom at all, a thought that left her feeling decidedly ill.

"Is the potion ready, Tom?" asked Dumbledore when he saw that Tom had begun to put a measure of it into a cup of firewhiskey.

"Yes, sir," he answered as he moved to bring it to him.

"Let the girl bring it," Cornelius said as he looked Hermione over. "I'm sure she must be good for something useful."

"Sir, Hermione has one of the most brilliant minds I've ever seen," Tom protested. "She may even be as smart as I am."

"High praise, indeed, sweetheart," smirked Cornelius as he took the cup from her hands. His fingers slid over hers as he did so, and lingered there a bit longer than necessary. The bile rose up into Hermione's throat and she made a loud noise as she swallowed it down again.

Tom scowled while the other two men chuckled, and then Cornelius brought the cup to his lips.

"Mind you drink it all as quickly as you can," Tom told him. "It's a rather fast-acting potion."

"And who is it we are extracting today?" asked Hermione sweetly.

"My father, of course," Cornelius grumbled. "He believed that his children replacing him was something to take literally."

"How horrid!" she gasped.

"But it was standard practice back then, my dear," he explained as his eyes roved down her blouse, trying to see what color bra she wore. Her ire rising now, she tried to back away, but he held her hands fast against the cup as he drank the contents in one big, noisy gulp.

"Here, now, let the girl go," Tom told him.

Whether he wanted to or not, Cornelius was forced to comply as the flesh of his body began to roil and bubble, sending him spinning about in an unnaturally fast series of circles. A loud pop sounded, and when the smoke cleared they all saw a shriveled, smallish creature who resembled a man.

"Why, you ungrateful wretch!" the little man hissed. "I ought to take you right over my knee and—"

"And what?" asked Cornelius as he towered above him.

"Go to hell, you rotter!" he squeaked, and then exploded into dust.

"We really must find a way to prevent the self-destruction aspect of that draught," Dumbledore complained. "It must be the very next thing we work on, Tom."

"As you wish, Professor," he said.

"And you, Cornelius?" Dumbledore asked. "How do you feel?"

"Quite—alone," he answered. "I didn't realize how used to the old man I actually was."

"Interesting," Dumbledore said. "Most interesting, indeed. And you'll tend to the matter we discussed, I presume?"

"Indeed I will," he said. "Right away. Thank you, my old friend. I can never repay you for this."

"No, but I'm certainly willing to let you try," he answered with a smirk and a wink.

From where he still stood near the table, Tom groaned and rolled his eyes.


	32. Graduation

Chapter Thirty-one: Graduation

"Are you ready for this, Hermione?" Tom asked as he checked his tie in the mirror at the end of his bed. Hermione had just donned her best dress, and the dress robes they were expected to wear for the ceremony were neatly in place, he saw through the glass. "You look good enough to eat."

Hermione chuckled. "Doesn't your tongue ever get sore, sex fiend?" she inquired sweetly.

"How can it when you taste so good?" he wanted to know.

"Come on, Tom, we're meant to be getting ready for one of the most important events in our lives," Hermione reminded him.

"This? This one isn't at all important," said Tom dismissively. "When we spend the first night together in our new flat, that will be important."

"You always say the sweetest things," Hermione told him as he turned to take her in his arms.

"I'm only speaking the truth," he informed her as he rained a few kisses on her forehead. "Now let's go graduate."

"Good idea," she agreed. "Otherwise you'll have me undressed again within the next five minutes."

"Ah, that sounds so tempting," he said with a chuckle. "Do you think they'd notice if we weren't there?"

"We're supposed to lead in the class, Tom," she reminded him. "And we've a speech to give, and you're supposed to receive your scholarship to the Potions College. I'm pretty sure they would notice."

"Right, right," he answered as he let go of her to avoid further temptation. "Let's go."

The pair of them headed for the Great Hall, where all the seventh years were expected to meet. Then, once they'd all arrived, Tom and Hermione would lead the procession out to the Quidditch pitch, where the ceremony was being held.

Hermione was quite excited to be graduation after all her years. At the same time, however, she was a nervous wreck. By mutual agreement, both Dippet and the Minister for Magic agreed that it would be in everyone's best interests not to write her diploma up with her real name. It would read "Hermione MacMillan" instead.

"Too bad it doesn't say Hermione Riddle," Tom whispered in her ear as they sat together after the ceremony was over.

Hermione blushed.

"Maybe the next piece of paper you get will," he continued playfully as he nibbled her ear. Several of the other students giggled, but Hermione noticed that Wallburga Black was not one of them. She was seated beside her cousin, whom she'd recently been betrothed to, but the two of them seemed about as interested in each other as oil and water.

"You think you're so great," she said snidely. "Head Girl, just waltz right in and steal Tom Riddle, the Head Boy, and now the two of you will get to blissfully move in together and get married and your life will be picture perfect. Just remember, Hermione, that neither one of you has any family to fall back on. You'll be living in poverty, slaving at some meaningless job, and as soon as you squeeze out a few babies you won't even be decently pretty anymore. Ha, that ought to show you!"

"Shut up, Wally," Tom told her.

"And you, Tom," she added. "You've always been best at everything, haven't you? But you let this girl slip right in and wrap you around her little finger, didn't you? It's completely disgusting. I hope the two of you enjoy your bed now that you've made it—"

"Of that you can be sure," Hermione interrupted her to say with a smirk. "And if I were you, I would quit while you're still able to move. Unless you want a repeat of the last performance."

"Oh!" she fumed, knowing Hermione had bested her again. But at least she didn't say another word to them after that.

"Wonderful ceremony, wonderful," said Dumbledore cheerfully as he shook hands with students on their way out. But when he finally got ahold of Tom and Hermione, he was swift to draw them aside.

"Sir, what are you doing?" Hermione wanted to know.

"Okay, you two, now that graduation is over, the real work is about to begin," he said. "Meet me at Big Ben on Friday next. I have another assignment for you."

"Are we at least to know what—or who—we are working on next?" Tom asked him.

"It's best if we speak of these matters only in private," Dumbledore answered. "One never knows where Gellert's spies may be, do they?"

"No, sir, I suppose not," he agreed. "But sir, Friday is the day Hermione and I move into our flat. Can it not wait?"

"Tom, surely you would not wish to put yourself ahead of the Greater Good?"

With a heavy sigh, he said, "No, I suppose not. We will be there."

"Very well, then," he answered, smiling cheerfully again as he shook each of their hands in turn. "We'll talk more later."

"Good night, sir," said Tom with just as plastic a smile as his. As soon as he was gone, he said to Hermione, "Remind me to hex that old bastard just as soon as we figure out what he's really up to, will you, my darling?"

"Oh, you know I will," she agreed, her smile plastered onto her face as well. "Let's get out of here before anybody else tries to ruin our day, shall we?"

"Most definitely," Tom agreed. "I've booked a room in Hogsmeade, just in case."

With a giggle, Hermione said, "That's the best news I've heard all day."


	33. The French Connection

Chapter Thirty-two: the French Connection

"Tom, Hermione, I would like you to meet Fabian Le Mer," Dumbledore said as a man stepped into the clock works and walked deliberately up to the three of them.

"Ah, so this is the fine young couple I have heard so much of," said Fabian, his accent almost undetectable. "I am pleased to meet you both."

"I'm sure the pleasure will be mine—once the old man explains who you are, exactly," Tom said, feigning amusement.

"I see you are right, Dumbledore," Fabian chuckled. "Affable, even in the face of uncertainty."

"Yes, a fine young man," he agreed. "He'd make an excellent politician—or an excellent spy for that matter."

"And now he hints at the heart of the matter," Fabian laughed. "A spy, young Tom Riddle, is precisely what I am. And the two of you are about to be taken into my employ. At least, insofar as it pertains to a certain Dark wizard. Long have I been tracking Gellert Grindelwald's movements. Too long, it would seem, for I fear he knows precisely who I am, and his spies have long been tracking me."

"That could be problematic," Tom agreed.

"And does the little miss have nothing to add to the conversation?" he inquired. "I had heard you are quite brilliant, Hermione Granger. Is it not so?"

Her face slightly reddened, Hermione replied, "I've yet to hear anything intelligent enough to comment on, sir. If you'll kindly explain how Tom and I play into this scenario more fully, I may be able to think of something more substantial."

The man raised one brow, clearly indicating that he'd been annoyed by her words. But Hermione didn't care. She had no intention of blindly following some man into the world of espionage, especially in some other country, without a good reason.

"Do you not wish to rid the world of the most evil wizard in it?" he wanted to know.

"If you cut off just one head on a creature that has many, you haven't killed anything," Hermione pointed out. "Only made way for yet another head to rise to take its place."

Guiltily, she spared a thought for Tom Riddle, who had taken that place quite nicely in her own timeline. They were working so closely with horcruxes, and Tom seemed to find the concept too intriguing by far. How easily might he be corrupted by these men, even knowing what fate might befall him if he did?

"Hermione, dear, do try to be polite," Tom whispered as he kissed the top of her head. "We're perfectly willing to end Grindelwald's tyranny, are we not?"

"Yes, of course," she said automatically. "But we must take care that in doing so, we nip the entire problem in the bud."

"And we will," Tom said sternly. "Forewarned is forearmed, so they say."

Hermione nodded. The two other men could tell that the two were discussing a topic they'd had several discussions on, but were excluding the rest of the company.

"Well then, you two, how did your move go? Have you set all your belongings in order?" asked Dumbledore, more to change the subject than to learn the answer.

"Yes, as well as they could be with limited time to arrange them," said Hermione as brightly as possible. Tom nodded his agreement to this pronouncement and took her hand in his.

"As to that little matter, you may wish to rethink the arrangement somewhat," Fabian announced. "I will be needing you in Paris straight away."

"What?" Hermione and Tom both gasped.

"I am sorry I was unable to discuss this with you sooner, Tom," said Dumbledore with an arched brow. "The next phase of our research will need to be done in France over the summer. I'm sure you understand. Your flat will be kept for you while we are gone, of course."

"Oh, of course," Tom said, obviously annoyed.

"Come, there is little time to lose," Dumbledore said as he held his hands out to the others. "Gridelwald is on the move, and only the destruction of all of his horcruxes can possibly stop him now."

"All of them, sir?" Hermione repeated worriedly. "How many do you think he has?"

"To date, I believe there may be five," Dumbledore explained. "I am hoping that the two of you can find out more about them while we are abroad."

"Sir, will we not be able to stop by our flat?" Tom inquired. "I have a great deal of research on horcruxes hidden there. It would prove invaluable to furthering our aims."

"Yes, of course, Tom," he agreed. "And pack at least a month's worth of clothes. I will provide you with more while you are there, of course, but it never hurts to be prepared. As I understand, ladies are especially fond of their own clothing."

"Sir, you know I have very few belongings to have grown fond of," Hermione reminded him.

"Well then, Miss Granger, perhaps we shall change that," he said with a smirk. "Wouldn't a nice shopping spree in Paris be enjoyable?"

"Trying to sweeten the pot, sir?" Hermione inquired. "It won't work, you know. I am determined to be put out by your highhanded action no matter what you say."

"That is all well and good, my dear, as long as you come along," he smirked.

"I will, but not for you."

"Then let us be off," he said with that annoying smile of his, and he Apparated them all away.


End file.
